


there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out.

by crazyhomoinspace



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Just a Mention, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Service Dogs, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Underage Drinking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14049309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazyhomoinspace/pseuds/crazyhomoinspace
Summary: Keith Kogane is an aspiring tattoo artist. After a wave of setbacks and disappointments, he seeks guidance from Black Lion Tattoo and the amicable yet unreadable owner, Shiro.





	1. you want to screw up the works?

**Author's Note:**

> [this work is not intended to be 100% accurate]

Every child knows what they want to be when they grow up. Usually, it’s something fantastical-- they wanted to be a world-renowned heart surgeon, or they wanted to be among the first fighter pilots in space. As the years wound down, they usually settled into a more attainable goal. Those children who daydreamed of becoming heart surgeons settled for a career in nursing. The space-faring fighter pilots joined the Army.

When Keith Kogane was a child, he wanted to become a tattoo artist. But unlike most of those children, there was no step down. He wanted what he wanted. Nothing was going to get in his way.

Keith had no idea of what sparked this fire inside of him. It had just been an ever-present nagging call in the back of his heart ever since he was young. He loved to draw. He was good at it. Hell, he was damn good. He spent most of his time face-down in a notebook, wearing his pencil down to the eraser. His drawings took him far, far enough to get into art school after he graduated high school.

That didn’t last long.

While Keith was an artist of tremendous talent, he wasn’t one to spend hours with his nose in a book. Patience wasn’t his strong suit. He excelled in every art class on his schedule. He didn’t, however, excel at Math. Nor did he excel at History. Or Language. He was in school for art. Why did his schedule need to include Spanish?

Failing out of college after two separate battles with Academic Probation was, in retrospect, the best thing he could have asked for. He was bored as hell, but that meant that he got to spend the next few years improving on his own, building his portfolio, doing whatever he could with minimal guidance. He supported himself on digital art commissions and his respectable wage from the music store that his dad owned. It wasn’t his preferred life but it would work. He could make it work while he figured out what he needed to do without the safety blanket of a degree.

Never once did Keith lose sight of his goal. Never once did he place his dream on the back burner. While he built his practical skill, he worked on studying the process. Countless hours on YouTube and more reputable sites armed him with knowledge he was sure to impress with. He could assemble and disassemble a tattoo gun in his head. He found a local community center that offered certification classes covering CPR, First Aid, and Bloodborne Pathogens. He took every damn course they offered.

He was ready. It had taken years, and a little longer than he’d hoped, but he was ready to pursue his internship. Apprenticeship. Whatever it was called.

* * *

 

It couldn’t be that hard, right? New shops were popping up on corners every day. Someone had to be teaching them. But he didn’t want to just work with anyone. After coming so far, wanting it for so long, he was only going to work with the best. So he compiled a list of shops he’d be okay working for, packed his portfolio into his backpack, and hopped onto the zippy little cherry red Kawasaki something-or-other. It wasn’t an impressive vehicle, in Keith’s mind, but it got him where he needed to go and was thin enough to ride along traffic if he was in a hurry and felt the need to break the law.

Keith’s first and safest choice was a fairly young studio named The Galaxy Garrison. The rejection came almost as soon as he laid his binder on the counter. They didn’t even look at it. All they cared about was the fact that he had failed out of college. How fucking discouraging. It wasn’t like being a drop-out was the most important part of his life.

Whatever. Fuck them. There was a reason he went to the lowest tier of his options first. It only went up from there.

The second stop was Galra Empire. It was the oldest, most well-established shop in town. The owner was Lotor, a fairly young man with harsh eyes but an elegant hand. Reviews were excellent, and Lotor’s art was intimidating. He was very much the type of artist that dominated competitions and made sure the rest of the industry

“You won’t find anyone seeking an apprentice here,” he’d drawled, most definitely looking down on Keith. “I don’t accept them. I prefer not to waste my time and energy on something that so often fails. Come back in ten years, you might find patience from me then.”

Well, if that was how it was going to be, fine. Keith turned on his heels, adjusting his backpack and swiftly exited the shop. With his second flat-out rejection of the day, he could feel anger bubbling in his stomach as he shoved his hair inside of his helmet and strapped it on. Sure, the guy said that he didn’t take apprentices. That was fine. Not everybody did. But to be that much of a dick without even looking at his portfolio? Whatever. He took a breath as he started his bike and pulled out of the parking lot. It wasn’t like a fight would be worth it. Slamming a well-respected artist up against the wall sounded like a good way to never work in the industry, ever.

Next was Juniberry. The owner, Allura, was well-known and well-respected in the industry. He took a moment, though, talking in a calming breath, realizing that he was about to do the manliest thing he’d ever done in his life.

See, Allura was known for her very specific style. Her work was flawless, her technique was perfect… and everything she produced was so, so feminine. His reasoning behind even considering her as an option was the mere fact that she was incredibly famous in the industry and could at least get his foot in the door.

As he stepped inside, he realized that everything was far, far pinker than it looked in the pictures. There was bubbly K-Pop playing over the speakers. He looked out of place. He looked like a creeper, with his scowl, the motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, and his much darker overall color scheme.

Nope. He couldn’t do it.

He was about to high-tail it out of there, but it was too late. He’d been spotted. Too awkward to run out anyway, he turned toward the beautiful woman at the desk with a strained smile.

“My name’s Keith. Kogane. Uhh... I’m just here to ask if you had any spots open for apprenticeship.”

She looked him over. Once. Again. He felt like a car being inspected for sale.

“Is that your portfolio?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” He handed over the small black binder that he kept only the artwork he was most proud of. She opened it right then and there, scanning over the first few pages of artwork. In the very back were certificates proving that he already had taken all of the necessary First Aid and health classes.

Allura flipped through slowly, examining each piece element by element.

“Your lines are consistently too thick. I can tell you deviate far from your source material. But your use of color is stunning,” she admitted. “I’d like to see you develop your lettering a little more.” She hummed. “Tell me about your education-- Keith, was it?”

Shit.

“I went to The University of Arus School Of Art.”

“Did you finish?”

His eyes narrowed defensively. “No. What’s it matter?”

Her smile grew. “I thought as much.” She closed the binder and slid it back to him. He was about to thank her for her time and trudge back to his motorcycle much more disappointed in himself. But instead, she reached under her counter and flipped through a book of business cards.

“You have potential, Mr. Kogane,” she admitted. “I’d take you on if I could. Unfortunately, I have my hands full at the moment.”

As if on cue, a heavily male voice cried out from the back room.

“Uh, Ms. Allura? There seems to have been some kind of… ink-splosion in the prep room!”

Allura put her head in her hands. “Coran…” She rolled her eyes but handed Keith a business card to compensate.

“Was Black Lion on your list?” she asked.

Keith stared in confusion at the card he was given. It was simple and printed on glossy white paper. There was a black line in the middle, turning seamlessly into the shadow of a leaping lion. The name was typed underneath, stylized as ‘black lion tattoo.’

The back was just as simple as the front. The only information listed was the names and Instagram handles of the artists.

‘Lance Alvarez. Tattoo Artist. @lance.a.art’

‘Takashi Shirogane. Tattoo Artist. Owner. @blacklionink’

‘Katie ‘Pidge’ Holt. Piercer, Association of Professional Piercers. @pidge-pricks-people’

By the time Keith whipped his head around to look at Allura, she’d turned her computer monitor to face him. She was scrolling through one of the most impressive tattoo Instagrams he’d ever seen. How had he missed this place?! Rude though it may be, he took the mouse and keyboard from her and clicked on a few pictures.

The header was simple. It had the studio’s phone number, their email address. As he scrolled down, he found an ‘About Us’ post.

‘We are a new tattoo studio specializing in Japanese, Watercolor, and Neo-Traditional designs. We are Veteran owned and operated. We strive to create a welcoming and inclusive environment for all of our patrons.’ Keith stopped reading after that part-- it just went into standard safety and sterilization standards that the shop upheld.

The pictures were the interesting part. Keith clicked on the first one he found and his jaw fell open. It was a koi fish wrapped around somebody’s torso. Judging from the lack of redness around the edges or shine, it was well-healed and looked absolutely stunning. The colors were bright and the lines were crisper than anything he’d seen prior. He was looking for a flaw-- lost color, minor blowouts of color under the skin… he found nothing. After he’d gotten his fill of the first person’s work, he moved on to the other’s.

The other artist, Lance, had a very new-school, almost cartoony vibe. He seemed to be the god of flowers and lettering. It was clear that he was fairly new from the barely-detectable shakiness and overt simplicity of his early work, but that didn’t mean that his quality suffered.

“How have I never heard of them before?” he asked, gawking wide-eyed at the screen.

Allura grinned. “The owner, Shiro, doesn’t much believe in advertising. He works strictly on word-of-mouth and a sign in the window. We had to push him for the Instagram.” She rolled her eyes. Keith nodded along. Yeah. He was old. He probably didn’t understand how social media worked.

“Here, I’ll write down the address. Do you remember where the old Holistic food store was? Ask for Shiro directly, and don’t let him say no. He loves to teach, and since Lance got his license, he’s been looking for someone to take under his big, beefy wing.”

The imagery made Keith wrinkle his nose.

Armed with another lead and potentially a new and powerful ally, Keith shoved his binder back into his bag, threw it on his back. He kicked off on his bike and headed off to the address that Allura had given him. It wasn’t a long drive. In fact, once he thought about it, he’d definitely seen the place before. It was tucked away and poorly advertised, featuring one singular neon ‘TATTOO’ in the window. When he had been listing places in town, that studio had gone straight to ‘sketchy.’  
  
He wondered what this Shiro guy would be like. His Instagram had been suspiciously absent of any personal pictures. He was probably old. The account did say ‘Veteran Owned’ in the description. While Keith didn’t exactly love the idea of spending a year handcuffed to Father Time, he’d deal if it meant he could produce art of that caliber.

* * *

  
Three o’clock in the afternoon meant that nobody was in the shop. Nobody in the shop meant that Pidge got to play Zelda from her lofty position on top of the jewelry counter. She was joined by Lance, who was pretending he wasn’t napping behind his magazine. Though they were a busy shop, and Pidge rarely had time for mid-day coffee on Saturdays and Sundays. She savored every moment of downtime, especially when she had someone else to bother. It was almost always Lance. Shiro had eerily good stamina behind the gun and would emerge only to take a happy client to pay or retrieve his next one. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him grab something from the refrigerator or use the restroom in the entire time she’d worked with him.

From where she sat, however, she could see the body drifting hesitantly to their door. She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, trying to get a better look at him.

“What do you think, Lance?” she asked, scaring her partner out of his doze. “Yours or mine?”

It was a game they always played with walk-ins. Was it some innocent soul wanting baby’s first tattoo, or did they want to get pierced?

Lance took one look at the guy and went back to trying to nap. “Piercing. He’s a total tool.”

Pidge hummed. “What do you think? Rook? Daith?” She sat up as he got closer to the entrance. “Maybe I’ll get to pierce a dick today?”

“Why would you want to--”

The bell over the door jingled delicately. There he stood in all of his barely suppressed anxiety. Pidge took a second to look him over. He wasn’t very intimidating in height and stature but made up for it with the permanent scowl on his face. He’d be pretty cute if he didn’t look like he was storming in to avenge a death. The guy’s hair looked soft and his eyes were, like, video game character big.

With Pidge too busy scoping the guy out, Lance spoke up.

“Hey! Name’s Lance,” he smiled, standing and offering his hand. He took it.

“Keith.”

“Well, Keith. What can we help you with?”

* * *

 

He hadn’t been nervous until then. He’d strolled into every other place with his head held high. This felt different. Maybe because it was a hot lead? All of the visits to the other studios had been him busting the door down and demanding to speak to the manager like some middle-aged soccer mom. Here, he knew he had a shot. A real chance. And the pressure was high for him to not fuck this one up.

“I’m here to talk to Shiro. Allura sent me.”

Lance blinked. “Uh. He stepped out for lunch. Can I help you with something?”

“I don’t think so.” Okay, that came out a little more harsh than he’d wanted it to. “I was told to ask him to be my mentor.”

Oh. One of those. Lance’s professional demeanor dropped almost as far as his left hip. “And Allura told you this?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. She did.”

“Wait… that means… you went to Juniberry?” Lance restrained a laugh.

Keith crossed his arms. “Yeah. I did. What’s wrong with that?”

“Everything in there is pink!”

“That doesn’t mea--” Keith’s cheeks were heating up.

“Hey! He’s actually really good!”

Relief from the rapidly declining argument came from Pidge, who stood safely on the countertop, black binder in her hands.

“Pidge!” Lance roared. “You’re lucky you weigh, like, ten pounds, or you’d be standing through the top of that glass!”

Keith wasn’t concerned about the girl on the counter. What did concern him, however, was the fact that she was holding his portfolio in her hands. “Hey! How did you get that?” He reached up. She turned slightly, keeping the binder out of his hands while she flipped through the pages.

She hummed thoughtfully, shoving the circular glasses up further on her nose. “Oh, I went through your backpack while you two were arguing. I’m serious, Lance. Look.” She turned the folder around so he could see a portrait Keith had drawn, along with a landscape.

Lance gawked. “Gimme that!” Catching it mid-air after Pidge tossed it, Lance turned his back to Keith as he tried to look through as quickly as possible.

“He’s better than you were when you were an apprentice.”

“Shut up, no he’s not.”

“Can you just give me my damn portfolio back?” Keith asked, reaching around Lance’s torso from behind to take the binder back from one of its thieves.

“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?”

The voice sent chills up Keith’s spine. He could hear the ‘thud’ of Pidge’s shoes as she hopped down to the floor and scrambled into the desk chair. Lance dropped his defenses long enough to let Keith reclaim his portfolio. It wasn’t until after his belongings had been secured did Keith calm down enough to look at the new body in the room.

Holy fuck. That certainly was a body.

There was no way that this guy was any shorter than six feet, six inches. His body mass made him look like he could bench press a sensible mid-size sedan. His hair had been chopped into an undercut, the forelock unruly and star white among the black. The jagged scar on the bridge of his nose encouraged eye contact by drawing the gaze upward. Given how harsh his voice had been, his eyes were kind, and it was about then that he realized that he was being spoken to.

“You’re Keith, right?”

Blink. “How did you know that?”

The man smiled. “Allura texted me and told me to expect you.” He extended his hand, the sleeve of his black cotton hoodie revealing the design of a sprawling rosette nebula over a black, star-laced background sprawling up his arm. “I’m Shiro.”

Keith gawked, almost missing the offered handshake and risking looking really lame in front of the most intimidating man he’d ever met. He landed it, however, and shook firmly.

“You’re Shiro?” he asked, unable to mask his disbelief. Keith had been expecting Father Time, not Daddy.

The smile melted into a grin. “Sure am.”

“Keith Kogane,” he replied. “Uhh.. can we…?”

“Talk? Sure. Let’s go back to my room.”

Some kind of jingling behind Shiro drew Keith’s attention downward. Behind him was a dog. The black German Shepherd wore a vest bearing the words ‘SERVICE DOG. DO NOT PET.’ Not only that, but there was most definitely a bag of Chipotle clenched between its jaws. The dog made no move from the door as if knowing that it wasn’t allowed into the working areas.

“Pidge, grab Paladin and put that in the fridge, will you? I got something for you and Lance, too, but if you eat my guacamole, you’re fired.”

As Keith and Shiro went back to Shiro’s workspace, Pidge couldn’t help but lean forward and watch as they went, right up until the door clicked behind them.

The dog whimpered, butting a brown paper bag against her thigh.

“Whoops. Sorry, Pala-dog.”

Bag in hand, she turned her attention to Lance, who had taken up grumping on the couch. “Will you quit moping and give me a hand over here? I have an appointment in ten minutes, there are shoe prints all over the counter for… some strange reason… I’m hungry, and Shiro’s most definitely making out with that guy.”

“Making out?” Lance sputtered.

Pidge shrugged. “Duh. Did you see that look Shiro was giving him? Do you remember how long it took him to warm up to either of us?” She leaned on her hand, grin widening. “And did you see him looking at Shiro’s ass?”

Okay. That was a reach. “He was looking at Paladin.”

“Maybe. But Shiro’s ass was on the way.”

Very much done with this particular conversation, Lance stood and retrieved a container of wet wipes from under the cash register while Pidge put the food away.

“Thanks, Lance!”

“Yeah, well. I’m eating bossman’s guac and blaming it on you.”

* * *

  
Keith had been a little bit too distracted when he’d first arrived to check out his surroundings. But as they made their way into the workroom and Shiro pulled the door shut behind them, he took it all in. The floors were black wood-grained tile, clicking softly under his boots. The walls were white brick, the grout a dark grey. All of Shiro’s certifications were in clear view. A singular leather chair was placed in the middle of the room, and Keith could see how it could fold flat to make a bench. Along the back side of the room was a long counter featuring a sink, black cabinets, and white marble countertops cluttered only with the necessities. Soap, an autoclave, a rack built to hold ink bottles… he kept his space as bare as he could get away with.

He sat himself down on a chair in the corner, one that was there for a friend, lover, or family member watch as their loved one went under the needle. Shiro pulled up his stool, sitting at a light angle, not entirely in Keith’s face.

“So. Can I see your portfolio?”

“Oh! Yeah. Here.” Keith handed it over and felt himself starting to sweat as Shiro looked through. He flipped through at an agonizingly slow pace, as if analyzing each and every damn pixel. When he was done, he simply closed the binder, laying it on his lap.

“Tell me about yourself, Keith. What do you do now?”

Aw, jeez. Of course he wanted to know the embarrassing stuff. “Uh. I do online commissions,” he admitted. “And I work at my father’s store selling musical instruments.”

Shiro nodded. “Do you play anything?”

“Yeah. Uh… violin, guitar, bass, a little bit of piano… flute.”

“Flute…?”

Keith could feel himself going red. “I was in marching band as a kid. Can’t really take an electric guitar onto the field.”

Fair enough. “You have a sense of humor. I like that.” Shiro cleared his throat. They went through a few standard interview questions. Surprisingly enough, he didn’t ask about higher education. Keith wondered if Allura had forewarned him. He did, however, ask his motivations. Of course he did. And Keith had been thinking all damn month about how he was going to answer that particular question.

“So. Keith. Tell me. What put this in motion? What made you want to look at this as a viable career path?” Shiro leaned forward. “I won’t lie to you. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be tedious, frustrating, loaded with shitwork… you have to have a pretty strong will to make it through that.” He chuckled. “I think I gave Lance an existential crisis three months in.”

Keith looked away. “I guess… the best way to put it is… this has always been a goal of mine. Ever since I could remember. I guess I want to prove that I can do one stupid thing that makes people feel good about themselves. I have talent. I know that. I don’t want to be famous. I just don’t have all of the skill. You do.”

Shiro listened intently, keeping his eyes on Keith’s reddened face. “Okay. Yeah. We can work with that. I’m going to keep asking this question, though. The answer might change down the line.” Keith’s passion was obvious as his voice raised. It was exciting-- Shiro’d interviewed dozens of hopefuls, and none of them got that worked up. “Do you even have any tattoos?”

The question took Keith off-guard and he nodded absently, completely disarmed. “Uh. Yeah. Two.” He wore fingerless gloves, red with a black and white accent, to protect his hands while he rode his bike. The sound of the velcro releasing filled the room and he pulled the glove off with a few tugs. He rolled up his sleeve one turn and flipped his wrist, showing off dots of ink that, with thin, dashed lines, connected into the constellation Orion. A background had been painted on, red and black and flowing like watercolor.

“Got that one when I turned eighteen.”

Shiro nodded. “Why Orion?”

“...You know constellations?”

“I’m fuzzy,” Shiro admitted. “Astronomy was my favourite subject in school. And calculus. And physics.”

Keith stared. “God, you were a nerd.” Oops. Wrong thing to say. Keith opened his mouth to fix it, but Shiro waved him off.

“Now. I want you back here tomorrow at ten. We’ll start with three days a week, work up to five. Wear short sleeves and dark colors tomorrow, and nothing you’re emotionally attached to.”

Keith stared. Wait. What was happening?

“You mean--?”

“Hm?”

“You mean you’ll do it? You’ll take me on?”

“Oh. Yeah. Guess I should have said that, huh?”

Keith was going to pass out. No way. No fucking way was it supposed to be so easy. There had to be a catch, but he was way too pumped for that way of thinking.

“Thank you. I’ll…” Don’t be weird, Keith. “I’ll be here. Tomorrow at ten.”

Shiro gave him a pat on the back as he put his glove back on, put his binder back in his bag, and retrieved his helmet. Shiro saw him to the door, with Lance and Pidge’s nosy eyes following every step. Paladin’s tail thumped on the floor as her handler returned from where he’d been hidden.

“So?” Pidge asked, scraping some rice from the bottom of her burrito bowl. “Are we going to be seeing him again?”

“...Yeah. I think so.”


	2. stay down, do you want to mess me up?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's days grow more exciting, and Lance and Pidge begin to notice some odd behavior between Shiro and his apprentice.

Mornings were rough for Shiro. He always woke up feeling like he’d just fallen asleep. For all he knew, with the way the hours blurred in the dark of his bedroom, maybe he had. In the interest of peace and not damaging his already sleep-deprived nerves, his alarm clock was a slowly brightening lamp that mimicked sunlight, along with a little bit of help from Paladin. She rolled and nuzzled into him until he awoke with a groan, sitting up and dragging his hand over his face.

“Morning, girl,” he greeted her with a pat on her side. She wagged her tail and crawled up his body to lick his face. “Yeah, yeah, I’m up,” he chuckled, scratching her ear before wiggling out of the blankets. Putting his feet on the floor was always the biggest battle, but he had a busy day ahead of him and wasn’t going to allow himself to lie in bed.

“Get the lights, Pal.” The dog hopped off of the bed and trotted off to the door, standing on her back paws and scratching and nosing at the switch until it turned on. He made his way to the door as well, still rubbing at his tired eyes. After unlocking and opening his bedroom door, he wandered toward the kitchen, stopping off at the back sliding door to let Paladin out in the yard for a moment. While she did what she needed to, he put some eggs in a pot of water and put on a pot of coffee.

Shiro didn’t rush unless he had to. He took his time with everything. It meant all the difference between him sitting down to a decent breakfast and reflecting on the day… and running out the door in a panic, pouring coffee into a protein shake and calling it breakfast.

While his eggs boiled, he let Paladin back in and gave her breakfast. While she ate, he smeared a healthy serving of ripe avocado onto some toast and scooped the soft-boiled eggs on top with a little bit of salt.

“Gonna be a long few months, huh, girl?” he asked, smiling down at the dog while she finished off her meal.

Taking on an apprentice was hard. Not every tattoo artist liked it, and some simply weren’t cut out to teach. For Shiro, however, it was a way for him to give back to the community. Looks aside, he really did like interacting with people. Not only that, but he had taken an immediate shine to the kid that had come in the day prior. Allura had labeled him as a ‘talented but prickly little boy.’ Even so, he wasn’t sure what it had been. Sure, he was an attractive guy, and he had talent… but it took more than that to be successful. Shiro didn’t know for certain, but he was going to figure it out.

After breakfast, he took five minutes to shower and threw on clothing from the ‘clean’ pile in his room. He didn’t like to work in anything too showy. He was a big enough guy as it was. That day’s winner was a pair of somewhat baggy jeans and a black and gray t-shirt under a well-loved but well-fitted grey hoodie. All he did to his hair was shake it out and run some sort of… shine goo through it that Lance had given him.

After putting Paladin’s vest on, he loaded her into the car and thumped down into the driver’s seat with a sigh.

As promised, Keith arrived at ten ‘til ten, clutching his double dirty chai latte like it gave him life. His shift at his father’s store never started until two. He wasn’t accustomed to rising before the sun hit mid-sky. He walked in with a sigh, trying to put on his tough face. He’d had to give himself a nice pep talk in the line at Starbucks.

He could do this. He knew it, and Shiro wouldn’t have agreed if he didn’t think so, too.

To his surprise, there were no familiar faces in the studio. In fact, the door was unlocked, but the shop was empty. He took a moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings while he waited for everyone else. The front of the place matched the aesthetic of Shiro’s workroom, the same pattern to the flooring and walls throughout the shop. The counter was entirely glass and expansive, holding a wide selection of body jewelry in various body-friendly materials and attractive stones. Unlike the almost sterile vibe that Shiro’s room had given off, the front was more welcoming. There were a few plants, mostly succulents and orchids by the windows and on the low coffee table in the seating area.

“Hey there!”

The greeting scared the shit and soul out of Keith. He’d been too busy scoping out that he hadn’t stopped to think that somebody had to have opened the door.

“God!” Keith cried, clutching his chest.

The guy grinned, stepping out of the bathroom. “Not quite. Name’s Hunk!” He walked over to a still-startled Keith and held out his hand. Keith took it reluctantly, willing his heart rate to slow to a reasonable rate.

“Keith. I’m Shiro’s apprentice.”

Hunk was a large and expressive guy. His soft brown eyes went wide at the words and he gave an excitable squeal, yellow shirt riding up just a little as he brought his hands to his face.

“We haven’t had a baby in here for years! This is going to be so much fun! Jeez, I’m off for one day and they switch everything up on me.”

Pidge and Lance walked in together, each nursing cups of presumably some form of caffeine. Lance had to stop and consider the scene in front of him while Pidge waved at the two men in her line of sight before making her way into her piercing room.

“What’re you doing here?”

Keith returned Lance’s glare. “Working?”

Lance shook his head, eyes clenched shut. “No, no, no. No. We have a perfectly good counter Hunk.”

“I don’t work the counter,” Keith grumbled. “I’m Shiro’s apprentice.”

Lance’s jaw fell open. “Wha-- but you-- Shiro! Shiro, is that true? I thought you made him an appointment or something. I didn’t think you were serious!”

As the door swung open, Paladin stood in front of her handler. Shiro pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we please hold the histrionics until lunchtime?” He let his hand slide off of his face and turned to Lance. “Yes. Keith’s my apprentice now.”

“Wha? This is bullshit, he didn’t have to--”

Shiro’s expression of tired annoyance turned sour. “Lance. Mind your business.” The words were spoken through clenched teeth and Lance seemed to understand, huffing and trudging off to his workroom.

Hunk leaned over toward Keith. “Sorry. He’s… passionate.”

“If that’s what you wanna call it,” Keith muttered.

Shiro pat Hunk’s back. “Okay, bud. You can take the phones off voicemail if you’re ready. What’s my schedule look like?”

“Two seconds, boss.” Hunk ran off to the counter and shook the mouse of the computer perched in the corner. “Uh, first appointment’s at 10:30. I have them booked for two hours. Cover-up, maybe six inches?”

Shiro nodded. “Yeah. I remember them. Thank you, Hunk. And let’s get some music in here, huh?” He gestured for Keith to follow him, dropping Paladin’s leash across her back and watching as she dove under the counter to hang out with Hunk. He led Keith back to his workroom and shut the door behind him.

“Sorry about that.” Shiro sighed. “Anyway. Let’s talk,” he invited, patting the back of the chair in the corner where Keith had completed his interview. “I realized as you were leaving that I made a mistake yesterday.” Noticing the tension in Keith’s face and shoulders, Shiro waved his hand.

“Not in hiring you. I stand behind that. But I didn’t give you the chance to ask questions. I think we both ran off of our tracks.”

Oh. Visibly relaxing, Keith sat back. He thought for a good moment or two, watching as Shiro settled on his stool. Placing his tea down on the side table, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

“So, what am I going to be doing every day?”

Shiro grinned, just a little hint of mischief in his eyes. “Everything.”

Keith blinked. “Everything?”

“I don’t let my apprentices off easy. That’s why I’m not starting you five days a week. I’d kill you or run you off. For the first few months especially, you’re going to be assisting everyone with anything they need. That means Hunk, Lance, and Pidge, as well as myself. If we need ink tubes cleaned, you clean them. When we close for the night and need the floors scrubbed, you mop them. If a customer calls to book an appointment, you book it. If we need a Starbucks run, you do it. You stay until you’re done. Don’t worry, we’ll explain everything we’re asking you to do. I’ll make sure of it.” He winked.

“Then, when you have a little more understanding of how everything works and how the shop runs, we’ll get you practicing on fruit and pig’s ears. Once you manage not to mangle your grapefruits, I’ll put you on the floor, working for free with Lance or I sitting beside you. As you gain more confidence, we’ll start paying you for small projects... And working up until we can start charging full price for your work.”

Yeah, that sounded like a lot. Though he’d had an idea from reading blog posts and watching videos, he’d been curious to see how Shiro planned on working him. He didn’t like the idea of having to play servant to Lance, but he’d grit his teeth and bear it if he had to.

“Anything else?”

“...Can I ask some personal questions?”

Shiro’s brow raised. “I reserve the right to not answer, but sure.”

Keith scratched his head. “What’s with the dog? Because I have a cat at home, and I don’t wanna get bitten because I walk in smelling like puss--” He put his head in his hands. “Ah, fuck me.”

He could feel his cheeks grow hot.

“I mean-- shit,” he grumbled, but was pulled out of his embarrassment by a warm laugh from the man sitting across from him.

“Keith. Do me a favor?” Shiro asked. “Relax. Breathe. It’s okay,” he reached out, laying a large, rough hand on Keith’s bicep. He pulled away, realizing that Keith was most definitely wearing a muscle shirt and that he was touching his skin.

“Anyway, Paladin’s not going to bite you, no matter what you come in here smelling like.” He choked down his teasing to spare Keith more embarrassment. “I was a combat veteran. Paladin helps me with certain tasks. I don’t really need her up here while I work, so she stays in the front.”

Keith nodded. “What does she do?”

“A lot of things.”

Okay, that was a ‘stop talking, Keith.’ He sat back, trying to figure out what else he could ask without making a complete ass of himself.

“Yesterday, you asked if I played any instruments. What about you?”

Shiro chuckled. “I could stumble my way around a guitar if I had to.”

Keith wondered to himself if it would be inappropriate to ask his boss to have a jam session with him. But, feeling a little more confident and relaxed, he picked up his tea and stood up.

“I’m ready. Just tell me what to do.”

* * *

 

“Today, you’ll be sitting up front with Hunk.” Shiro stood as well, eyes tracking Keith’s movements as he made his way back up front. Keith had heeded his warning and had dressed himself in all black, from his muscle shirt to the skinny jeans tucked into his boots. A red handkerchief was tied to his belt loop, and Shiro had half a mind to ask if it was a fashion statement or to wipe his hands clean. But in order to do that, he had to stop staring at his ass.  
  
Really, Shiro had no idea what was wrong with him. He prided himself on his professionalism. When Lance had toddled in as a new graduate, begging to be taken on as an apprentice, he’d run him through the ringer. Keith, however, walked in with a portfolio and out with a new job.

This was going to be a long year.

* * *

 

Hunk was an exuberant soul and a far cry from Shiro and Lance. There were no scowls to be found. As Keith wandered over, he grabbed a spare stool out of Pidge’s piercing room and offered it to his shadow for the day.

“So, this is it!” Hunk gestured wildly at his workspace. A computer and a phone were about the extent of it, as well as the dog wagging her tail under the counter.

“Pidge built this computer for us out of spare parts she had in her technology graveyard. The scheduling software is really easy to use. It’s talking to the clients that’s tough,” Hunk admitted. “They have no clue how long a tattoo takes. I’ve had some people book Shiro for two hours and only need twenty minutes.”

Keith grimaced. “What does he do then?”

Hunk shrugged. “Take walk-ins, usually.” He leaned in close to Keith’s ear. “Don’t tell the others, but I’ve definitely caught him holing himself in the back to take a nap. He pretended to be looking for something, but he was in there for like an hour.”

Keith had no idea of how to respond to that information. Thankfully, the phone ringing saved him from another moment of awkwardness.

“Black Lion, Hunk here!” He waved Keith close so he could watch what he did on the computer. “Sure thing! How big? Hmmm, I’d give that an hour and a half to be safe. Which artist did you wanna see? Oh, just so you know, Shiro is booking about six months out at this point. Is that okay? That’ll put us around October 6th. Okay! Awesome. Yup, Shiro’s deposit is one hundred, and that goes toward the price of your tattoo.”

While Hunk spoke, Keith noted details in his head. He should have brought a notebook with him, but he realized that Hunk was typing away in a text document while he spoke to the client. As soon as he hung up, he turned the screen toward Keith.

“I’m writing everything down so you can refer to it later. I’ll save it to the desktop. I’m gonna call it ‘Keith’s Cheats,’” he puffed his chest out. “But yeah, six months out is, like, Shiro’s absolute minimum waitlist. When people get pissy, I just tell ‘em Lance has an average wait of a week. Then they usually submit their design to Shiro, and get something else with Lance in the meantime.”

After a few hours, Keith felt like he knew everything there was to know about running the desk. Instead of one hundred dollars, Lance’s deposit was sixty. Shiro was off on Sunday and Monday, Lance was off on Wednesday and Thursday, and Pidge was off Tuesday and Thursday.

“When you start being more than a slave to the ink, I’ll probably put your days off as Saturday and Monday, then see how you do from there.”

Keith grimaced. “Isn’t Saturday the busiest day?”

Hunk shrugged. “Yeah, and you’ll lose your mind trying to keep up with a packed schedule. Shiro’s making your hours now, but once I figure out how hard he’s dogging you, I’ll put you on the books so we know when we have a lackey.”

Keith spent the rest of the day cleaning, with only a short break to go on a lunch run for the entire shop. Shiro hadn’t been lying. That day, Keith had to go from wiping down the glass to answering the phone to scrubbing toilets. Hunk gave him a break toward the end of the day, allowing him to sit and file consent forms.

Yeah. He was a lackey.

* * *

 

  
In his second week, he learned how to use the autoclave to sterilize equipment. In his third, he learned how to order supplies and print stencils that would be used. He went home with black hands every night from cleaning up ink. His feet hurt, and he smelled like a pungent combination of bleach and tincture of green soap. There was vaseline in places it most definitely shouldn’t be, and he’d definitely gone home with a pair of gloves in his back pocket. The hard work wouldn’t bother him, except for the fact that the only time he saw a fucking tattoo was when Lance or Shiro brought a client out of their workroom.

It wasn’t until he’d been there for an entire six weeks that he actually got to shadow anybody. And, of course, his first time had to be with Lance.

His relationship with Lance hadn’t gotten any better since he’d started. The guy took every opportunity to tease him or make him do something absolutely unnecessary. Shiro had made it clear that, when anyone in the studio told him to jump, the only acceptable response was ‘how high?’ That included having to agree when Lance told him to scrape the taco wrappers off of the floor of his car.

But keeping from punching Lance was taking most of his self-control.

“Let’s get this over with,” Lance sighed, trudging into his workroom, wheeling in an extra stool. “Sit here and don’t touch anything.”

What was weird was that Lance didn’t act that way with anyone else. With most people, he was obnoxious and tried to be funny. He liked to break the tension. It was like Keith’s presence tripped some kind of switch inside of him. Their first interaction hadn’t been great, after all. But still, what had he done to Lance, other than exist?

The lucky recipient of a Lance Alvarez exclusive was some girl who had asked him to design, in Keith’s opinion, a really cheesy tattoo of a hummingbird in a peony. Keith had been allowed to size and print out the stencil, but other than that, he’d been told to sit there, pay attention, and look pretty. Once he made sure that Keith had set everything up to his satisfaction, Lance sauntered out into the waiting room to retrieve his client.

The girl was nervous. She’d brought a giggly friend with her for support, who sat behind Keith in the companion seat.

“I’m Lance,” Lance introduced with a bow and flourish that made Keith roll his eyes. “And to my right is Keith. He’s the shop’s apprentice.”

Keith gave an awkward wave. The girl smiled back politely before sitting back while Lance asked her about placement and put his gloves on.

“Umm, right here.” She lifted up her shirt and gestured to her ribs. Keith gritted his teeth. It was true that some areas hurt more to tattoo than others, and the girl had skipped over ‘that stings a little bit’ and went straight to ‘I’m gonna pass out.’ But Lance didn’t look all that concerned.

“Awesome. Let’s get this party started!” He wiped her side down with rubbing alcohol in broad strokes. “So, that was just to clean the skin. I’m gonna shave the spot down real quick just so none of those pesky little hairs get in the way.” Once he was done running over her skin with the razor, he tossed it in the trash and took an extra moment to wash the area with soap and water.

“This is gonna get a little cold,” Lance warned. “This stuff helps the stencil stick.” He applied some of the clear liquid everywhere he’d just shaved, and carefully stuck the stencil on.

After pulling the paper away, Lance pointed off to a full-size mirror on the back of the door. “Go on and take a look, let me know if you like it.”

Keith felt his patience thin as the girls started squealing and shrieking about how cute it looked. She waddled back to the seat, nodding enthusiastically as she sat down.

“I love it!”

“Great!” Lance poured some ink into caps. “These are the colors I’m using. Look good?”

She nodded.

“Okay. This is the fun part.” Lance had her turn so she’d be more comfortable. An extra measure of caution, Lance put a disposable surgical mask on and gave another to Keith. Ink had a tendency to fly, and Keith really didn’t like the idea of breathing on another person’s open wound. “If you need a break, let me know, okay?”

The client let out a breath. “Yeah. How bad’s this gonna hurt?”

Keith bit his tongue.

“Like a really annoying cat scratch.” Lance squirted some Vaseline out of the tube onto the back of his hand. “I’m gonna start now.” Keith looked down, seeing Lance’s foot hover over the foot pedal as he got into position.

As if keeping the client’s pain threshold in mind, Lance went as quickly as he could, cracking jokes and making conversation in the meantime. He moved line by line, wiping excess ink with a paper towel and applying the Vaseline to lubricate the needles.

Keith already knew that chit-chat was going to be tough for him. He didn’t like small talk. When he drew, he drowned himself in music. He liked his focus. Lance, however, seemed to be perfectly content talking a mile a minute with the client and her friend while he worked.

All in all, the piece took maybe half an hour. It wasn’t particularly big, and she’d picked out a rather simple flat color scheme. Lance washed it off with some green soap, took a quick picture for Instagram, and coated it with a thin layer of ointment before throwing a bandage on and securing it with tape.

“Keep the bandage on for six hours if you can. If it falls off, don’t worry about it. Wash it with soap and water only, twice a day at the most. It’s gonna peel, and the peeling might be colorful. Don’t pick at it. Just put a little bit of ointment on and go about your day. Once it stops flaking, lotion is fine.”

Once the girl had paid, Lance turned to Keith, who was already disposing of drapes and ink-soiled paper towel in the trash and placing needles into the biohazard container on the wall.

“Boom! That’s how you do it, baby.” He cracked his knuckles. “Get this room turned over, and then I think it’s time someone made a coffee run. I’m feeling an iced caramel macchiato.”

“Mocha Frappuccino!” Pidge yelled through the wall.

“Blonde roast with cream!” Even Shiro had heard. “...And take Paladin out!”

* * *

  
The sun had set and the door had been locked. Keith had run around like a madman for the rest of the day. He cleaned the bathroom, took Paladin for a walk, cleaned the counter, mopped out the lobby and all of the artists’ rooms, and restocked jewelry for Pidge. He was just waiting for Pidge to finish in her procedure room so he could mop and get the hell out of there. At that point, Lance was probably in there, bullshitting with her and distracting her from whatever it was she had to do.

Yeah, the vendetta was getting old.

Phone on the glass counter, Keith leaned forward in the chair, scrolling idly while he tried to kill time. He was absolutely exhausted and needed nothing more than a shower and a cold beer.

“What’re you still doing here?”

Shiro’s appearance scared the fuck out of him. He lurched, almost sliding his phone off the counter and onto the floor. “God,” Keith hissed. “What are you still doing here? I didn’t see Paladin, so I thought…” he trailed off, noticing big amber eyes staring up at him from under the couch in the waiting room.

“I had some custom designs I wanted to finish up.” He stood opposite of Keith, eyes kind as he could see in his apprentice’s posture how tired he was.

“What’re you waiting for, Keith?”

Keith pointed to the piercing room. “Pidge,” he sighed. “She and Lance are still… doing whatever in there. I can’t mop it out until they’re done.”

Shiro groaned. He marched over to the closed door and knocked heavily. “You two better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” he hollered. “Five minutes or I’m letting Keith leave and you two close up yourselves.”

While his boss reprimanded the two other remaining employees, Keith let out a yawn, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. Shiro took the seat next to him and reached out to pat his back.

“You’re doing well,” he praised. “You don’t complain. I’ll admit, I was a little worried about that at first,” he smiled. “But I can tell you’re going to do well if you keep it up.”

Keith hummed. “I mean, getting coffee and scouring toilets is easy,” he admitted. “But I haven’t done any real work.”

“I don’t think that’s as true as you think it is. You saw Lance work today. Ninety percent of what he did was boring. He’s just getting cocky, having someone to clean up after him.” Shiro looked down at his apprentice’s face.

“Here. Let me give you some advice,” Shiro offered. “If you take one thing away from this entire apprenticeship…” he paused. “I’m sorry. I forgot to ask. Are you okay with being touched?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Shiro put both hands on Keith’s shoulders and pulled him back so that he was sitting upright.

“Don’t slouch.”

Keith stared at his mentor, just a little bit incredulously as he was jerked back into his seat. “...What? Why?”

A thumb ran between Keith’s shoulder blades, causing him to tense up with a gasp.

“That’s why,” Shiro started. “You sit like shit all day, you get sore. The more stiff you get, the more permanent it is, the shorter your career. I mean, some of it’s unavoidable, but playing on your phone isn’t. You have to take care of your body.” Shiro’s grip adjusted and he dug his fingertip into the muscle between Keith’s shoulder and neck.

“Gah! What the fuck?”

“Your back’s a fucking brick wall,” Shiro noted with a scowl. “Is this alright?” he asked, turning his hand and running his knuckles from Keith’s neck to his shoulder.

Keith grumbled. “I guess.” It wasn’t the touch he was worried about, it was the pain he was enduring while his mentor abused his back. He tensed as Shiro hit a sensitive spot, clenching his jaw and his fist. “Ah! Ah! Fuck,” he gasped. “It didn’t fucking hurt until you started messing with it,” he complained.

“Yeah, because you’re tight.”

“What are you, a massage therapist? Ahh.. no, no. Right there. Don’t move.”

The door to the piercing room swung open, and there stood Pidge and Lance, both greeted by the image of Keith leaned forward at the counter, face twisted in an expression that could say little more than ‘it hurts so good,’ Shiro’s fist against his back.

“Uh.” Lance rubbed the back of his neck. “Room’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Keith grit out.

Lance motioned awkwardly to the door. “Uh. Pidge and I are gonna hit the road. You comin’, Shiro?”

“...Give me a minute.”

As the couple walked out, Pidge adjusted her glasses with a twinkle in her eye. “‘You better not be doing what I think you’re doing,’” she mocked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys!
> 
> Thank you for reading this chapter! UwU Stay tuned, the next one is going to be pretty intense!
> 
> If you enjoyed it, please make sure to leave a comment or some kudos! :D


	3. I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith grows more confident and adds a new modification to his body. Shiro's best friend and Pidge's brother, Matt, makes an appearance and helps the shop take care of an emergency.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes depictions of a panic attack and blood.

After six months, the days began to bleed together. Shiro increased Keith’s schedule to five days a week. It was simple-- when Shiro was there, so was Keith. As the weeks rolled by, he found himself following Lance and Pidge and Hunk around less and less and became Shiro’s little shadow. Sure, he still did all of the grunt work, but a good portion of his time was spent at Shiro’s side, watching him work and listening to him explain his process or how to avoid simple mistakes.

Compared to Lance, who never stopped talking, Shiro worked in silence. He’d check in every once in a while with his client, or with his apprentice, but didn’t make any real attempt at chatter. For Keith, it was a blissful chance to recharge and lose himself in his work. When the customer permitted, Keith would sit in the corner of the room, practicing lettering on oranges, or working on shading on a sheet of pigskin. Not every second had to be a teaching moment. When the time called for it, the two of them were content to merely exist side-by-side.

“How was today?” Shiro asked with a hint of a smile. The sun had long set and had taken most of Keith’s focus along with it. He was ready to call it a day, keys in his hand, just waiting for Shiro and Paladin to come out before he locked up.

In response, Keith gave a genuine, but tired smile. “The best I’ve had in awhile. I think I’m getting control over my lines.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” Shiro praised. “You’re not loading your lines on thick to compensate for your shakiness as much.”

Keith grumbled.

“Hey, you’re an apprentice for a reason. This doesn’t come overnight.” He reached out and rubbed Keith’s back, right between his shoulder blades. “Be safe going home.”

“Yeah. You, too.” After sparing a moment to scratch Paladin behind the ears, Keith waved goodbye to his boss and got onto his bike.

Shiro stood and watched as Keith mounted his bike, put his helmet on, and went on his way. Most days, he could divert his gaze and distract himself from the curve of Keith’s spine as he leaned forward on his motorcycle and the little glance back he gave once the engine turned over.

But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. It was getting worse.

Sure, Keith was objectively handsome. He had big greyish purple eyes, a fit but compact body, and a somewhat dark and broody demeanor that made every smile feel that much more precious. Over time, his hair had grown long enough to throw back into a ponytail that had begun to make an appearance in Keith’s daily life. The sight of Keith sitting in the corner of Shiro’s workroom, worrying at his lip with his teeth, ponytail high, hands covered in black gloves that gapped just slightly at the wrist, trying to make the tattoo gun work with as much cooperation as a tablet pen had made his heart fly into his throat.

Even so, Shiro knew better to say or do anything. He was an adult, not to mention a professional. He could control himself around someone he had a crush on. Though he found himself glancing at Keith’s backside or letting his gaze linger as he licked his lips, he never made a show out of it. He kept his stare at eye-level if Pidge or Lance walked by, and barely even looked Keith’s way when a customer was present. It was better that way.

The next day, Shiro had scheduled himself a two-hour lunch. His best friend was in town, and he had to take advantage while he could. Maybe it would feel good to talk to someone about this god-forsaken flame he held for his apprentice. He had to use discretion, still-- his buddy, Matt, was Pidge’s brother.

“Okay, guys,” Shiro called, putting Paladin’s leash on and heading for the door. “Let’s not burn the place to the ground while I’m at lunch, got it?”

Hunk saluted. “Will do, sir! Tell Matt to come by some time!”

The door to the piercing room flew open. “You’re going to see Matt?” Pidge asked, jaw dropped. “Remind him that he has a sister, will you?!”

Shiro chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

When he arrived at the restaurant, he was immediately greeted by a familiar, kind-looking man waving and trying to get his attention.

“Hey! Shiro!”

Shiro navigated the crowd with Paladin behind him, earning a few looks as he made his way to the table. The dog tucked herself neatly beneath the booth, wagging her tail and looking up at her handler.

Matt stood, arms open, inviting Shiro for a hug despite reaching the man’s collarbone, if that. Shiro took it and gave his friend a firm pat on the back.

“It’s good to see you,” Matt admitted, tossing his overgrown brown hair out of his eyes. “What’s new?”

“...You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

* * *

  
Keith was bored. He didn’t dare to say it out loud, but it was true. For the time being, there was no real work to do. He could practice, sure, but his wrist was sore and he still liked having Shiro there as a security blanket.

It wasn’t just him with nothing to do. Lance had stepped out to run an errand, and Pidge didn’t have any appointments until later. Hunk was playing Minecraft on the work computer.

“Hey. Keith,” Pidge began, looking back at her newest co-worker. “...Do you have any piercings?”

Keith shrugged. “My ears? I used to have my eyebrow done, but I took it out.”

Her eyes lit up. “Since we both have nothing better to do… want a piercing?” she asked. “On the house.”

Keith looked suspicious. He trusted Pidge’s skill-- she was a damn good piercer with impeccable hygiene and technique. Clients came back to her again and again. He just didn’t know how he felt about being in pain for a minimum of the rest of the day.

“I dunno…”

“Oh, come on,” she encouraged. “Hunk, shouldn’t Keith get something pierced? Really become a part of this family?”

Hunk looked up. “Yeah! Pidge did my septum.” He reached into his nose and pushed out a circular barbell that had been hidden inside. “It’s like a rite of passage.”

Keith scrunched his nose. “Well, I don’t want whatever that is.”

Pidge nodded. “So you are open to a piercing. Great!” She reached into the display case and pulled out a few pieces of jewelry.

This particular set was all opal in shades of blue, purple, white, red, and even black. The one that caught Keith’s eye, however, was the larger fire opal sitting in the middle of the rows.

“Uh... I don’t want anything in my ears. I’ve gotta wear a helmet.”

“Well… we can do lip? Nose? Tongue?” Her smile dropped into a smirk. “Nipple?”

He didn’t want something that was going to draw too much attention, nor did he really want any sharp objects near his nipples. Of the options he’d been presented with, tongue seemed the most subtle. He could just close his mouth. He wasn’t chatty, so nobody would notice him speaking strangely for a few days.

“Tongue.”

That seemed to make Pidge happy. “Okay!” She pulled out a selection of jewelry. “What do you wa--”

“That one.” Keith pointed at the fire opal.

Well, that made her life easy. “Okay. Let’s go on back.”

Pidge’s piercing room was easily the most decorated room in the entire studio. Video game posters were plastered all over the walls, and there were cartoon stickers on the cabinets. She sat Keith down on the table, having him turn to face her after she threw the jewelry into the autoclave for sterilization. He had been so busy looking around that he didn’t notice when she poured out some mouthwash for him.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” she winked ominously. Keith climbed up onto the table, and while his mouth burned from the intensity of the mouthwash, he thought about how every moment in his life had led up to him at the mercy of his coworker, a needle about to be driven through his tongue by someone who wasn’t even old enough to drink.

After a few minutes, Keith knew why people liked coming back to get pierced by Pidge. She was good, and she was fast. As soon as the jewelry came out of the autoclave, Pidge had marked and clamped his tongue.

“You’re in control here,” she reminded, getting lined up. She moved very deliberately, her hand steady and focus ironclad. “When you’re ready, breathe in slow, then a long breath out.”

The pair emerged moments later, Pidge looking satisfied with a job well done and Keith looking a little paler than when he’d gone in.

“Let’s see!” Hunk encouraged. Keith stuck his tongue off, showing off the perfectly seated jewelry in his mouth.

“I’m putting him on my Instagram! He photographs really well. Look!” While Pidge showed off pictures of Keith sticking his tongue out, Keith wandered off to their little break room in a desperate search for ice to suck on.

* * *

 

“Wait. So, let me get this straight,” Matt moved his soda off to the side, leaning forward to stare at his best friend. “You took on an apprentice. Said apprentice is stupid hot and happens to hit every button you have.” He paused. “And you haven’t climbed on top of that yet?”

Shiro didn’t look amused, but he was most definitely hiding behind his tea. “It’s not okay, Matt. You know how unprofessional it’d be.”

Matt shrugged. “Maybe, but… this is kind of big for you.” The teasing dropped from his voice and he sat back. “You act all friendly, act like everything’s fine, but you keep people at arm’s length. It might really… you know, help things if you let someone in.” He reached across the table to pat his buddy’s arm, stealing a potato skin in the process. “I haven’t heard you talk about a crush since before boot camp.”

In retaliation for his stolen food, Shiro snatched a mozzarella stick off of Matt’s plate. “I thought you’d be on my side with this.”

“I am,” Matt assured. “You’re just too bull-headed to see it.” He lowered his voice. “We’re tattoo artists, not politicians. Nobody is going to care if you take your apprentice to bed.” He paused. “How’re you sleeping, Shiro?”

Nope. “We’re not talking about that.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s irrelevant,” Shiro gritted through his teeth.

Matt hummed. “I was just gonna say, having someone there helps. Trust me. We went through the same shit on deployment, remember?” he asked, pointing at the raised, pink scar on his cheek.

Dragging his hand over his face, Shiro shook his head. “Sleeping with my apprentice isn’t going to cure my PTSD, Matt.”

“I didn’t say it would. I said it might help.”

“This conversation is over.”

Shiro hadn’t been expecting that response from Matt. It had been Matt who had introduced him to the idea of tattooing as a viable career choice. He was a well-respected artist, and the fact that he’d condone someone sleeping with their apprentice wasn’t something Shiro had been prepared for.

They spent the rest of their lunch talking about everything from work to their favourite movies as of late. By the end of it, their stomachs were full and the waitress had fully fallen in love with Paladin. They paid their bill and began to wander together toward the shop.

“Hey, do you mind if I stop by the studio?” Matt asked, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. “I’d like to see Pidge. I’ve got a gift for her.”

Shiro nodded. “That’ll be fine.” He stopped in his tracks. “Matt. Keith is in today,” he warned. “If you say anything--”

“My lips are sealed!” Matt promised. “...His name’s Keith?”

“Matt…”

“Okay, okay!”

* * *

 

Shiro and Matt arrived to find Hunk on the phone and Pidge with her head on Lance’s shoulder while they watched YouTube videos on Lance’s phone. Keith, however, was nowhere to be found. Shiro breathed a small sigh of relief, while Pidge stood with a scream and practically tackled her brother. Matt laughed, holding his sister tightly.

“Hey, Pidge,” he laughed, patting her head. “Keeping busy?”

“Actually, yeah,” she beamed. “I’ve got a bunch of appointments later.”

Lance stood, and Matt let his sister go so he could give Lance a side-hug. “What’s up, man?” Matt grinned. “You taking care of her?”

“As much as she’ll let me.”

Shiro looked around. Keith’s absence was unusual, but not all that worrying. He did, however, turn to Hunk while the Holt family plus Lance had their little bonding moment.

“Where’s Keith?”

Hunk looked up at the clock. “He’s at the cafe across the street. Should be back any minute.”

As if on cue, Keith came through the door backward, clutching a bag between his teeth and two cardboard drink carriers perched precariously on his arms.

“Let me help you with that!” Matt jumped up and completely ignored the confused look he was given as he took the drink holders and put them on the counter.

Keith spit the bag out and opened it. He laid five nicely wrapped pastries out on the counter and his gaze drifted toward Lance as he came over to collect his food.

“You better not have bled on these.”

Shiro looked up in concern. “Bled?!”

Pidge dug her foot into the tile as Lance brought her a pastry and a matcha milk bubble tea. “I pierced him today.”

Shiro rubbed his nose, right over his scar. He turned to Keith, who had his tongue sticking out, showing off the newest addition to his body. Okay. Just when he thought that Keith couldn’t get any hotter, that had to happen. The universe was working against him.

“You must be Keith,” Matt greeted gently. “Specialist Matthew Holt,” he introduced, chest puffed out. As they shook hands, Matt looked over the other man’s face, brow lifting.

“Hey. Do I know you?”

Shiro felt his stomach tighten. He watched the interaction closely, picking absently at his fingernail. The last thing he needed was to find out that his best friend and his apprentice had a rapport, and his little secret wouldn’t be safe.

Keith shrugged. “Maybe. I worked retail for a while, and I grew up around here.” The swelling of his tongue was making talking more difficult.

“Maybe,” Matt hummed, but he wasn’t convinced. He dropped the subject, however, and turned toward Shiro.

“Hey. I’ve got nothing going on for the rest of the day. Mind if I stay and bang out a few walk-ins?”

“Be my guest. Hey Keith, set up your machine for Matt, please?”

Keith nodded, not wanting to speak more than absolutely necessary. Once he was out of view, Matt turned to Shiro with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Don’t say anything.”

“I’m not,” Matt teased. “Your face says it all.” He dropped his voice. “A tongue piercing? Hot-- ow!”

Shiro shoved his elbow into Matt’s side as Lance walked by. God, the last thing he needed was for him to hear.

* * *

 

Despite the lull in the middle of the day, the shop picked up toward the afternoon and kept most everybody busy until closing. At Matt’s insistence, motivated by the prospect of testing out Pidge’s new PC build and wanting to allow Keith to rest following oral trauma, the nightly cleaning was divided amongst everybody.

Everything was fine. Matt wasn’t digging at Shiro over his apprentice, nor was he harassing Keith under the guise of being friendly. Done for the night, Pidge put her coat on and grabbed her bag. Hunk had shut down the computer, switched the phone to voicemail, and had left with a wave. Lance was doing a final sweep of his workroom, and Keith, Matt, and Shiro were making their way to the front.

They were all mingled in the lobby, with Matt grabbing his backpack from the same cubby Pidge had used to store her jacket. Keith was ahead of Shiro, zipping up his windbreaker, helmet under his arm. Shiro had just called Paladin to join him when a crash sounded through the shop.

Shiro’s reaction was immediate. He grabbed Keith by the hair and the shoulder, slamming him down onto the tile and covering his head with his body. The bright red helmet went flying, rolling underneath the coffee table.

Matt had a similar, but less violent reaction. He turned on a dime, standing firmly in front of Pidge, fists raised. He relaxed immediately, surveying the scene in front of him. He briefly acknowledged that the sound had come from Lance’s workroom, and registered the metal instrument tray lying on its side.

But more important was the fact that Shiro was most definitely keeping Keith from being able to get up. Matt could see scrawny legs flailing and arms trying in vain to push Shiro off of him.

“Shiro,” Matt called. He couldn’t see his friend’s face-- it was buried in Keith’s hair. “Shiro. Hey.” He snapped his fingers but got no response. “Come to, Sergeant,” he encouraged.

Matt could hear the commotion behind him but tried not to pay the others any mind as he tried to snap Shiro out of whatever he was experiencing. Paladin trotted over, whimpering and licking her handler’s hand. She rolled into his side, trying to force him to pet her. She even stuck her face up against Shiro’s neck, trying to gain access to his face.

“What’s happening?” Lance asked quietly.

Matt shook his head. “Some kind of flashback. I dunno.” He reached out, scrubbing his knuckles vigorously over Shiro’s back. “Come on, Takashi. How’re you doing down there, Keith?”

A muffled groan.

After a few seconds of the annoying stimulus of the hand on his back and the dog lapping at his neck, Shiro inhaled a breath and pulled his head away from Keith’s hair.

“Hm?” Matt could see Keith squirming underneath Shiro, who jumped backward, leaving Keith face-down on the tile. “Oh my God. Keith. Keith, are you okay?”

Keith groaned as he pushed himself up, sitting with his legs tucked under him. He tried to inhale through his nose but choked on the steady flow of blood that was dripping from it and pooling on the tile.

“I’ll get some tissues!” Pidge cried, running into the bathroom.

Matt grabbed Keith by the head and tilted it forward forcefully, pinching his nose shut while Pidge ran back and laid some tissues and menstrual pads out beside Matt.

“These might help.”

Keith groaned in pain, bearing his teeth and revealing them to be stained pink with blood.

“Does anything else hurt?” Pidge asked, pulling a pad out of its wrapper and handing it down to her brother. “Did you bite your tongue, jostle your piercing, hit your head, hurt your wrist?” She turned to Matt. “Could he have hit his head?”

Matt shook his head. “Nah, not too hard. Shiro’s hand was tucked under Keith’s forehead when he fell.”

“Nothing else hurts. Just my nose,” Keith admitted, yelling as Matt let go of his nose to test the flow of blood, then pinched again, this time holding the pad under his nostrils. Tears were streaming down his face and onto Matt’s hand. With Keith more or less taken care of, he looked back at Shiro.

Lance crouched down in front of Shiro, brows drawn up in concern. “You okay?”

Shiro nodded. “I… yeah.” He looked down, Paladin in his lap, licking his face. “I’m sorry.” He pet the dog, trying to prove to her that he was okay. The panic was fresh in his eyes, however, and Matt knew that he was very much not okay in that moment.

Lance shook his head. “It’s my fault. I knocked my tray over.”

Matt sighed. “Pidge, you and Lance should go. I’ve got it from here.”

Pidge agreed, taking her boyfriend’s hand. “Come on.” She pulled Lance away from Shiro and looked around as she fished Lance’s car keys out of his pocket.

Once it was just the three of them, Matt pulled Shiro to his feet. “It happens,” he reassured firmly. “Everything’s okay. Right, Keith?”

Keith’s nod didn’t match the scowl on his face. He took a few deep breaths, falling back onto his ass and resting his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. I’ll be fine,” he sighed, rubbing his chin. “Do you think it’s broken?”

Matt shrugged. “Probably. You kinda broke that fall with your face.” He trailed off, not wanting to upset Shiro any further.

Shiro stepped away from Matt and crouched down in front of Keith. He looked into his injured apprentice’s eyes, still panting. “Keith. I am so, so sorry.” He shook his head, rubbing the sweat off of his brow. “I don’t do well with loud noises, and in my head, I was trying to protect you.” He offered his hand. “Can you forgive me?”

Keith looked away, but accepted it and stood, and Shiro did the same. Wordlessly, he came in for a hug, breathing slowly to calm down from all of the excitement. Matt could see Shiro beginning to shake, and wanted to part the two to let them get their wits back, but chose to step back and allow it to happen.

Matt sighed dramatically, throwing his head back. “Okay. Okay. I’m done. Let’s get the fuck home.” He turned to Shiro. “You’re not going home alone, and I’m sure as shit not gonna let you drive. Give me your keys.”

Shiro looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You learned how to drive a manual?”

Matt groaned. “Still? Get with the times, man.”

“I can,” Keith spoke up. Both of the other men stared at him, and he shrugged in response. “What? It’s not hard.”

“That settles it,” Matt shrugged, handing the keys Shiro had pulled out of his pocket to Keith. “I’ll walk home.” He stepped in close to Keith, voice too low for Shiro to hear. “You mind staying with him? It’s probably best if he has someone there tonight.”

Keith nodded hesitantly. Matt patted his back and waved as he left.

“Come on, boss.”

* * *

  
“What about your bike?” Shiro asked, reluctantly climbing into the passenger seat of his own SUV.

Keith shrugged. “I’ll have to leave it and hope for the best, I guess.” That bike had seen worse than a quick tow, but Keith was praying that he wouldn’t have to pull hundreds of dollars out of his ass to pay an impounding fee.

Driving Shiro’s car was an experience, to say the least. It was big and powerful, and Keith had to spend ten minutes adjusting everything enough for him to be able to see. Thankfully, the drive wasn’t going to be long, and Shiro knew a few shortcuts. Other than giving directions, they rode in silence, the ride too short for Keith to even worry about turning on the radio.

A quick glance over to Shiro at a stoplight told Keith everything he needed to know. He felt like shit. He could see the man’s reflection in the window as he propped himself up on his elbow and stared out of it. Keith reached out, grabbing Shiro’s forearm and squeezing gently.

It had been obvious to Keith that his boss was suffering some kind of post-traumatic stress. The dog was the most blatant hint, but as he replayed the last few months in his head, he remembered Shiro coming in looking like he hadn’t slept in a year, tensing up when someone sneezed or snuck up on him, and fidgeting in his seat. He never knew that it was that bad. It pissed Keith off. Shiro didn’t deserve to go through something like that. He was patient, he was kind, he was everything that Keith wanted to be, but just hadn’t been built that way.

Keith spent the rest of the drive with his hand on Shiro’s forearm, moving it only long enough to switch gears. The touch seemed to help, and Shiro’s voice shook less and less with every ‘Keep left,’ or ‘It’s the last house on the block.’

Once they’d pulled into the garage, Keith took the key out of the ignition and handed it to its owner. Paladin stood up in the back seat, ready to go. Keith offered a smile, face still stained with drying blood. Shiro chuckled, shaking his head.

“You can come in, if you want,” Shiro offered. “You should get cleaned up. It’s been a long day.”

Keith nodded. “I’d like that.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is starting to pick up! Next chapter is going to start off intense, but we'll get to see everybody have a little(a lot) more fun. Please leave kudos and comments if you like it! :D


	4. but I pour whiskey on him and inhale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro recover after a stressful day, and Lance gives everybody a piece of his mind.

Keith had often wondered what Shiro’s home looked like. The man didn’t talk about his personal life very much. It was easy for his mind to wander. Despite all of the pain pulsing through his nose and his tongue and the dried blood on his face and shirt, he was alert and eager to see where his boss spent his time away from work.

It was underwhelming. The living room was practically empty, save for a couch and a TV mounted on the wall. The kitchen was nice, the granite counters immaculately clean, not a dish to be found. The walls were all a pleasant pale beige, and Shiro had gone the safe route and bought nothing but black and white furniture. He sensed a theme in Shiro’s decorating.

They stepped in further and Keith could see the dining room table tucked away, chairs pushed in, a light layer of dust on the glossy black surface.

Shiro didn’t entertain often. Keith wondered when the last time he had anyone over was. He turned to Shiro, who was on his knees, freeing Paladin from her vest.

“This might be inappropriate,” Keith prefaced, shifting and looking away. “Do you, uh, mind if I take a shower? I don’t think washing my face is going to do too much.”

Shiro shook his head in what looked to be disbelief. “Of course. The bathroom’s the first door on the right just past the living room.” He stood, tugging his boots off and leaving them by the door. “You can’t keep wearing that, you’re covered in blood.” Keith could see his mentor’s cheeks go pink.

“Don’t feel guilty. It’s fine. Really,” Keith assured. “Uh, do you have something I can wear?” It was a question he didn’t want to ask, but Shiro had been right. He couldn’t wear bloody clothing. He hung his windbreaker on the hook by the door and kicked off his shoes. Shiro immediately grabbed the jacket and led his guest to the bathroom, disappearing into his bedroom and bringing out a towel and an outfit.

“These were the smallest I had,” Shiro admitted sheepishly.

Keith took them. “Are you calling me scrawny?” he asked, smirking to try to lighten the mood. It hadn’t been for comedic effect, but the swelling from his tongue piercing had made him trip over the words. Shiro picked up on the joke and grinned in return.

“Well, you are.” He wandered off to the kitchen. “If you need anything, give me a holler. And just leave your clothes on the floor, I’ll wash them.”

Getting out of his outfit was such a relief. The blood had begun to dry, leaving stiff spots in the fabric. He started the shower and stepped in, closing the rapidly fogging glass door behind him. The hot water felt amazing. Red pooled at his feet as the spray washed the blood from his nose, mouth, chin, and neck. He took his time, lathering his hair and body with a combination shampoo and body wash that smelled so strongly of Shiro that the scent penetrated through the dry blood in his nose. Cupping his hands and filling them with water, he blew bubbles to help clear his nasal passages and help him breathe.

As the water ran over his head, he couldn’t help but think about Shiro. Maybe it was being in his house, using his products… but his mind wandered to what he would look like in the shower. He had thoughts like that more than he cared to admit. It wasn’t like Shiro wasn’t an attractive guy. Clients murmured their lust for him when they thought nobody could hear. Keith never allowed himself to think about it, not wanting to fuck up what he had going for him with a slip of the tongue. But Shiro was hot, and Keith was only human.

Once he was out and beginning to dry off with the plush towel that Shiro had provided, Keith snooped around the bathroom. He found what he had been looking for in the cabinet behind the mirror-- a packaged toothbrush and some mouthwash. Carefully, he brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth out with mouthwash that only slightly stung the fresh wound in his mouth. He had to tie the pants tightly to keep them on his thin hips, and the shirt hit his thigh. He walked out, still in pain, but feeling more relaxed and clean.

Shiro called to him from the couch where he sat, Paladin at his feet. “Come over here, I have something for you.”

Keith stepped over cautiously, raising his eyebrow at a package of frozen peas and a cup of crushed ice with an Advil sitting next to it.

“For the swelling.” Keith sat down beside his boss, rested his head on the couch cushion, and allowed Shiro to drape the cold bag of vegetables over his nose. He sighed in relief, feeling the throbbing in his face dissipate.

“Keith. You can take the day off tomorrow if you want. I don’t expect you to work when you’re injured.”

Keith shook his head. “No. I want to work.” He gave a little smile. “At least there I’ll be distracted from the pain… plus my bike’s still there.” He took the pain medicine, placing a few ice chips on his tongue and enjoying the relief it brought to his sore, swollen tongue.

Shiro dragged his hand over his face. “It hasn’t been like that for a while. I don’t know what happened,” he admitted. He wasn’t making eye contact. Hell, he wasn’t even facing Keith when he spoke. For a guy built like a truck, Shiro looked so small at that moment.

Keith closed his eyes. He wasn’t good with emotions. Nobody came to him for support. His response was always some brand of ‘get over it,’ ‘stop whining,’ or ‘murder is an option.’ It wasn’t exactly helpful when someone was crying. But for Shiro, given the day they’d had, he figured he could listen for a while. With his tongue so swollen and his nose so fucked up, all he could really do was listen.

“...Wanna tell me about it?”

Shiro gave him a side-eye. “You’ve experienced it. I don’t need to burden you more than I have.”

“...I’m grabbing something.”

One thing Keith couldn’t stand was self-pity. He sighed in frustration, marching into the kitchen with purpose and opening the fridge. He crouched down, holding the peas to his face, bottles clinking as he grabbed what he’d been looking for. He returned to the couch with two bottles of a light wheat beer, twisting off the tops and tossing them onto the coffee table. He tucked one leg under him as he sat, angled toward Shiro as he handed one of the beers over.

“Spill.”

Shiro looked down with a smile, bringing the drink to his lips. “Pidge would have your ass if she knew you were drinking on a fresh piercing.” He sighed. “It’s a long story.”

“Then fuck what Pidge thinks, and give me the Sparknotes.”

Shiro brought his eyes up to meet his. He opened and closed his mouth as if he didn’t know what to say. Keith nodded in encouragement. He’d always known that his boss had been in the military, but had never heard any stories. It was about time.

“I joined the Army when I was fresh out of high school. I was athletic and I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. The military was the obvious choice.” Mindlessly, he pet Paladin with his foot. “Worked hard, proved myself, got promoted quickly. Got deployed overseas… shit hit the fan just like it always does.”

Keith listened intently, nursing his beer while Shiro spoke through gritted teeth and frustration alight on his face.

“Sparing you the details, a lot of my men got hurt. A lot of them, Keith.” He shook his head. “Hell, I got hurt. Matt Holt saved my ass back then, just like he did today.” He chuckled, but his face showed that he didn’t think it was very funny.

“With my mental state and injuries, they sent me home on medical discharge. Matt knew that I would need something that wasn’t high tempo, so he suggested that his dad to hire me to work the counter for his tattoo studio. I fucking loved it. The people, the atmosphere, the art… That led to an apprenticeship… and here I am.”

Keith looked him over. “Where are you injured? I never see you limping or anything.” He winced internally, knowing that asking a nervous veteran about his injuries wasn’t particularly sensitive.

Shiro rubbed his arm. “I guess you don’t see it very much, do you?” He stood. “Alright. But don’t tell the others, okay?”

Keith’s shoulders lifted. “O...kay?”

Without another word, Shiro stood and pulled his shirt over his head. In all the time that Keith had worked at Black Lion, he’d never seen Shiro in short sleeves, let alone completely shirtless. His eyes roamed briefly over his pale, unbelievably muscular chest before landing on his right arm.

“Holy shit.”

Placing the peas down on the table, Keith stood and reached out to take Shiro’s hand. Preparing himself for the contact, Shiro let his muscles relax and didn’t seem surprised when Keith straightened his arm out.

“Holy shit, Shiro.”

Keith had seen Shiro’s hand plenty. The little rosette galaxy on the back of it was his trademark as far as Keith was concerned. He had no idea, however, that the rest of the goddamn universe was sprawled up Shiro’s arm. He could stare at the design for hours and not find every detail. Stars, comets, planets, moons… the ink even trailed down his side, rounding off under his pec.

“Touch it,” Shiro invited. Keith did, scowling as his fingers roamed over his arm. It felt like studs in leather, raised scars and smooth pits under his fingertips.

“Shrapnel,” Shiro explained before Keith could open his mouth. He took Keith’s hand and led his fingers to his shoulder, where he found a much larger scar hidden under a comet. “Bullet.”

Keith’s nose wrinkled and he gave Shiro his arm back. “Does it hurt when you work?”

“The shoulder does, sometimes. I try to ignore it.”

Letting out a breath, Keith ran his fingers through his still-damp hair. His arm flopped at his side, and without warning, he stepped in for a hug. He threw his arms under Shiro’s armpits, not able to reach his shoulders without standing on his tiptoes and risking hitting his nose on his own arm. He squeezed tightly until he felt reluctant hands rest on his shoulders, then slide to his back. Unable to do much with his face, Keith rested his cheek over Shiro’s pec, able to feel his heartbeat. The position was nice-- he didn’t have to look at Shiro’s face.

Shiro hadn’t been expecting for that to happen. He’d somewhat expected the hug earlier, back at the studio, because tensions were running high and it was a moment of catharsis for the two of them. But as Keith held onto him like it was the only thing he knew how to do, he found his heart rate slowing and breath reaching deeper. It helped that his nose had been forced into Keith’s hair, forcing him to inhale the other man’s scent. Normally, he walked into the shop smelling like gasoline and cheap, generic men’s soap with a hint of hair wax. But in that moment, he smelled like Old Spice. He smelled like Shiro. It sparked an inappropriate, possessive fire inside of him.

He never wanted to let go, but unfortunately, Keith made that decision. He turned away from Shiro without another word, quickly covering his face with the frozen peas and reaching for his beer. Shiro did the same, putting his shirt back on and reclaiming his place on the couch.

“TV?” he asked, and Keith nodded pitifully.

The rest of the night was uneventful but pleasant. Not wanting anything too heavy, Shiro put on a dumb TV show that featured amateur bakers recreating professionally decorated baked goods and fucking it up to all hell. It was funny and didn’t take any mental energy to watch.

With the day’s events finally catching up to him, Keith seemed to be fading fast. He declined dinner in favor of finishing his beer. Shiro could see Keith’s struggle to stay awake in the way his eyes fluttered, his loud yawns, and his little sniffs as he caught himself dozing off. It wasn’t until about eleven o’clock that Keith finally succumbed to injury and alcohol, and Shiro felt a head flop over onto his shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile, looking down at the sleeping boy that was beginning to drool on his shirt.

After a few minutes of debating whether or not having control of his arm would be worth risking waking Keith, he broke away to let Paladin go outside. While she was doing her business, he grabbed a pillow from his bed and a blanket from his closet. He maneuvered Keith so that he was lying in a more comfortable position, head propped up in case he started bleeding in his sleep again. Guilt filled Shiro’s gut as he noticed the bruises forming around Keith’s eyes and nose. He looked like he’d been in a bar fight.

Leaving his apprentice knocked out cold on the couch, he let Paladin back inside and led her into his bedroom. She flopped down on the bed, waiting for her handler to take his spot. Once he was in bed, he stared up at the ceiling, wondering just how stupid it had been for him to tell Keith all of what he did. But the memory of that goddamn hug was what took over his mind, and lulled him to sleep with little fuss.

* * *

 

Shiro wasn’t used to waking up feeling rested. He blinked awake as Paladin nudged and rolled into his side. “Okay, okay,” he muttered, rubbing her side and sitting up. He remembered that someone was sleeping in the next room and he was courteous enough to shower and get ready for work before emerging from his bedroom.

Keith was still curled up on the couch, arm dangling toward the floor. He was snoring lightly, and Shiro wondered if he’d be doing so if it hadn’t been for the swelling of his nose. They had plenty of time before they had to go to work, so Shiro made breakfast, frying up some bacon and pancakes and brewing a pot of hazelnut coffee.

Once the sizzling grew louder and the smells of the food intensified, Shiro could see movement on the couch. Keith bumped his nose in the process of rubbing his eye and hissed with pain for a second before turning to look at the source of the smell.

“Hey,” Keith greeted, sitting up with a sleep-drunk smile. “What time is it?”

“Not even nine yet,” Shiro shrugged. “Sorry for waking you up.”

Keith shook his head as he stretched, peeling the blanket off of his body. “I needed to get up anyway.” He looked toward Paladin, who was sitting by the door. “Want me to let her out?”

“Please, if you don’t mind.”

Once the dog was outside, Keith wandered over to the kitchen island, perching himself on a stool and watching as Shiro cooked. Shiro spared him a glance and grimaced as he saw just how bruised and swollen Keith’s face really was.

“Keith. I’m serious. If you don’t feel up to working, I’ll take you to your bike and you can go home.”

“That bad, huh?” He moved, looking at himself in his reflection on the oven. “Fuck, I look like I got kicked in the face by a horse,” he laughed, still lisping slightly from his new tongue piercing. “I’m fine. I can last a day,” he rolled his eyes. “...But do you have any more of that pain medicine?”

Shiro served Keith a healthy breakfast of pancakes, yogurt, and Excedrin. He saw Keith eyeing covetously at the bacon on his own plate and scooted it further away. It was bad enough that he’d had alcohol the night before. Bacon was not going to feel good on a fresh piercing.

Realizing that he’d forgotten to wash Keith’s clothes, he apologized and dug something out of his closet for Keith to wear.

“I look like a kindergartener wearing my dad’s clothes to school,” Keith grumbled playfully, rolling up the sleeves of the hoodie that Shiro had provided. They both had fairly narrow hips and Keith’s legs were long, so the jeans fit okay, he just had to roll up the bottoms.

Once Paladin was inside, fed, and dressed, Shiro took Keith to the car. They rode in silence again, but it wasn’t awkward. Shiro rather enjoyed it. There was no pressure to talk, no feeling like the other was bored.

Nobody in the shop was exactly a morning person, let alone Lance. But he’d gotten up bright and early, leaving Pidge asleep in their bed, wanting to help Hunk get everything set up before the others arrived.

He still felt guilty about the day before. Even though he knew in his head that it had been an accident, he hadn’t knocked that tray over on purpose, he still felt responsible for Shiro’s panic attack and Keith’s broken nose. Even though he and Keith didn’t see eye-to-eye, he still didn’t deserve to get hurt.

It wasn’t that Lance didn’t like Keith as a person. Sure, he was an asshole and not all that great with people, but he did his work without a fuss and usually stayed out of Lance’s business. What he didn’t like, however, was how goddamn transparent it was that he and Shiro were having an affair.

~

“Hear me out on this, Katie,” he’d said one day, holding Pidge’s waist and kissing her neck. “Shiro has never once yelled at him.”

Pidge rolled her neck, giving him more access. “He doesn’t yell at me, either.”

“He lets Keith make the dumbest mistakes.” His hand smoothed over her chest. She arched into his touch, letting her head roll back onto his shoulder.

“You make dumb mistakes.”

Lance buried his face in her hair, unbuckling her belt and opening her jeans. She reached backward, hooking an arm around his neck as his hand slid down.

“Shiro rubbed his back. You didn’t see how gay that was?”

“I love that you’re talking about other men with your hand in my panties.”

~  
Lance knew that he was right, and it bothered the hell out of him. He hadn’t just walked into a goddamn tattoo studio and gotten an apprenticeship same-day. He’d had to network. He’d had to hoof it around two or three cities. After months of frustration, disappointment, and a few healthy cries in the car, he found a listing on a forum to work the counter at a new, small, one-artist shop owned by some dude named Takashi Shirogane. He worked his ass off, doing more than Keith could ever dream of. There was no Hunk, no Pidge. It was just him and Shiro.

After about a year, Lance had finally convinced Shiro to look at his portfolio. It took a lot of sweet-talking and a lot of sweat, but he finally got Shiro to agree to let him shadow for a while.

And then there was Keith Kogane, riding up on his cool motorcycle with his cool hair and his cool boots and his cool attitude, charming the pants off of his big, dumb lug of a boss and getting what he wanted on the spot.

It wasn’t fair.

But Lance, unlike Keith, at least pretended to have tact. He wasn’t going to say anything and risk his own job just for the sake of being right. So he’d bitten his tongue for months, stomaching the nauseating glances and fleeting touches.

“Hey, Lance. Do you know what’s up with these?” Hunk asked, lifting up a stack of three Petri dishes. “They have last week’s date on them.”

Lance lifted a brow. “Huh.”

“I think these are… or were… last week’s spore tests,” Hunk admitted. “Did you do these?”

Lance scoffed, arms crossed and nose in the air. Spore tests were a weekly task that ensured the autoclaves’ efficiency. Instruments were run through the sterilization cycle, swabbed for bacteria and viruses, spread onto agar on Petri dishes, and mailed to the manufacturer for testing.

“That sounds like Keith Work.” He paused for a beat. That meant…

“Keith!” Lance cried the second Shiro and Keith walked in.

Keith looked like death, sporting two black eyes and a stripe of purple over the bridge of his nose. His face screamed ‘it’s too early for this.’ He covered his mouth with an oversized sleeve as he yawned, clutching a hard plastic travel cup in his other hand.

Lance did the math in his head. Enormous hoodie. Travel mug instead of a paper Starbucks cup. Shiro looked like he was in an awfully good mood following an intense panic attack.

“What?” Keith asked, trying to focus on the scene in front of him, wincing and letting his eyes track from Hunk to Lance.

“Did you forget to send the spore tests out last week?” He shoved the dishes into the apprentice’s face.

Keith blinked. “Shit. I think I did them right before I went home. I must have forgotten. Sorry.”

Lance’s face went red, starting with his ears. “You’re sorry? We could be using contaminated equipment!”

“I said I’m sorry! I sent the other ones out two days ago!”

Lance’s jaw fell open. “Doesn’t help us now—”

“Lance.” The intervention came from Shiro. “He made a mistake. He’s not going to do it again, and he’s already done what he needed to fix it.”

In that moment, Lance felt his ‘Stay Professional’ failsafe malfunction. He turned his back, a hand on his hip.

“Of course you’d take his side.”

Shiro stepped forward. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, it makes sense. You just hired him because, what, he offered you sex?”

“Lance!” Pidge cried. “What the hell?!”

Shiro put a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I don’t think I heard you correctly. Care to repeat it?” Lance knew that Shiro had heard him loud and clear. He just wanted to give him a chance to change his answer.

“You heard me,” Lance snapped, shoving Shiro’s hand off. “We see it all day long. ‘Oh, let me rub your back, Keith.’ ‘Let me take you home with me.’ ‘Wear my clothes and I’ll bring you to work with sex hair.’” He gestured to Keith’s hair, which was sticking up from its ponytail. “What, does he sit in your lap when you work, too?” He brought his hands up to his face in mocking before dropping them to his sides with a quiet ‘thump.’

Shiro grit his teeth. “What has gotten into you?” He demanded. “Keith earned his spo—“

“No, he didn’t,” Lance scoffed. “He walked his pretty ass in here and walked out with a job and you wrapped around his little finger. I worked my ass off for years, and he gets his hands on a gun just for letting you stare at his ass all day?” He rolled his eyes and his voice began to quiver as he ignored the quiet fury on his boss’ face.

Lance didn’t get worked up often, but when he did, it was hard for him to cool off. “I’m not going to sit here and let you treat us like morons while he rides your dick into the industry while the rest of us work like dogs.” He stepped closer to Shiro, lip raised in a snarl. “I worked for you for a year before you gave me the time of day. So I should have sucked your dick day one? Shit, I wish I’d known that. It would have saved me a lot of fucking time.”

Paladin stepped in at that point, forcing her body between Shiro and Lance. She tried to nose her handler’s hand, attempting to get him to focus on her instead of the source of his stress.

Shiro looked down the bridge of his nose at Lance with a look that could murder. “Okay. Too far. You’re done for today. Go home, Lance. Come back when your head has made its way out of your ass and you have a handle on that fucking mouth.”

Lance yelled in frustration, storming out of the building.

* * *

Shiro was dumbfounded. He’d never expected that kind of behavior out of Lance. He felt embarrassment on his cheeks, rage clawing at his chest. He hated cursing at his staff, but God, it had been deserved.

As soon as Lance was out, he turned his attention to Pidge, who looked torn. He reached out and pat her shoulder a little harder than he’d meant to. 

“Go back to work. Check on him on lunch if you need to, but I can’t be down that many people at one time.” His teeth never parted as he spoke.

She nodded, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

“I told him to mind his own business.”

He counted to ten in his head, letting out a breath. “It’s not your fault, Katie.” He paused. “But… do you think what he said is true?”

She shrugged. “I thought you two were a thing, but I didn’t think he got the job because of it. I mean, you do look at his ass a lot,” she admitted. “But who am I to judge, you know? I’m dating someone I’m working with, too. It’d be kind of hypocritical.”

Shiro sighed. “Pidge, can you call your brother and ask him to come in? I’m going to need reinforcement today, and he can play six hours of Overwatch when he gets home instead of right now. Hunk, can you call all of Lance’s appointments for today and ask if they’d rather reschedule or work with Matt Holt?”

“You got it, Boss! But, uh… where’s Keith?”

Shiro turned, looking throughout the lobby.

No Keith.

“Fuck me,” he cursed, turning and running out of the shop.

Keith’s motorcycle was still in the parking lot, so he couldn’t have done far. Shiro looked either way down the street, then down the alleyway behind the shop. He found Keith there, leaning against the brick wall, clenching a cigarette between his teeth and trying to light it.

Shiro approached, trying to keep his expression kind despite the way his head felt like it was vibrating. “Don’t let Pidge catch you with that out here.”

Keith ignored the attempt at friendly banter, getting the cigarette lit and turning toward his boss after taking a drag.

“Is it true?”

“Keith…” Shiro reached his hand out, only to have it smacked away.

“Is it?!” Keith demanded, nervously taking another puff of his cigarette.

Shiro sighed. “Do you want the short answer, or the honest one?”

“Honest,” Keith grit out.

Shiro moved so that he was standing next to Keith, head tilted toward the sky. He couldn’t look at him.

“Not entirely. But there was some truth in what he said.” Shiro didn’t have to look at Keith to feel the rage radiating out of him.

“So what, you just hired me because I’m a hot piece of ass?” He scoffed. “Fuck this. Fuck all of this. I’m out of here.” He moved to leave but was stopped by Shiro’s hand on his wrist.

“That’s the part that wasn’t true, Keith.” He relaxed his grip but didn’t want to let go yet. “Listen to me. There are few people whose judgment I trust, but Allura is one of them. So if she tells me there’s a guy coming to see me that would be a good fit for the shop, of course I’m receptive.” He stepped out so that Keith could see his face.

“I was impressed by your work. I was impressed by your personality, your drive, your determination. You’ve proved yourself with your work ethic. Keith. You belong here.”

Shiro had to brace himself for the worst part. He hated feeling vulnerable.

“With that being said… yeah. I think that you’re attractive,” he admitted. “But that was never going to be a factor in how I treated you at work. I am almost thirty years old. I know how to control myself,” he insisted.

Keith brought the cigarette to his lips. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

Shiro’s shoulders fell. “That’s something you’d have to decide for yourself.” He let Keith’s arm go. “Look. I’m not going to drag you back into the shop by your hair. I still think you need to go home and rest, today aside. I want you to come back on Tuesday. But if you’re not comfortable, that’s more important.”

Keith stared up into his eyes, full of hurt and hesitance.

“If… you decide to not come back, I will understand.” He stood back in defeat. “I will write you as many letters of reference as you need and I will personally match you with another mentor. You belong in this industry. Don’t let Lance’s piss-poor attitude deter you.” He grinned weakly.

Keith was silent for a moment, eyes drifting downward and cigarette resting between his lips.

“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”

Shiro nodded. “Take as long as you need. Just let me know, okay?”

“Yeah.”

And with that, Keith was gone, dropping his still-smoking cigarette into a gutter puddle and walking off. He left Shiro confused, hurt, and emotionally exhausted, sliding down against the rough brick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! :D I've gotten a little carried away, so I'm thinking that there will be six chapters instead of five. It only gets more fun from here. ;)


	5. but I'm too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance realizes his mistake, and tries to make up for it with alcohol.

The weekend passed fitfully, with Shiro wondering every so often how Keith was doing and what his decision would be. He needed to be patient and trust that Keith knew what the best choice would be for himself. He couldn’t be pushy or nosy. The week had been overwhelming, and the best thing he could think to do was stay busy.

When he came in on Tuesday, Lance was sitting where Hunk normally did. He tensed up as Shiro walked in, and his head dropped before he stood.

“I’m sorry,” Lance sighed, keeping his gaze away from his boss. “I shouldn’t have said any of that. It wasn’t professional, and it wasn’t a… good person thing to say.”

Shiro nodded. “No, Lance. It wasn’t. You pissed me off, Matt had to spend his day off doing your work, and I… I don’t think Keith’s coming back.”

Lance went red in the ears. “I was just jealous! I remember doing all the work he’s doing without any of the benefits. And he’s so good! For an apprentice… he’s really good.”

“Yeah. He is.”

Shiro stepped forward, placing his hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Next time you have an issue like this, talk to me, okay? Don’t vomit your feelings all over everybody in the room.”

Lance nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry, Shiro.”

“Yeah, and don’t just say it to me. You owe Keith one hell of an apology.”

“...I know.”

Neither of them had been expecting to hear the bell above the door jingle. Instead of seeing Keith, who Shiro had been so desperately hoping for, he saw Pidge standing there in Star Wars pajamas and house slippers, holding a set of keys.

“Thought you might need these. You know, normal people combine their car keys with their other keys so that their girlfriends don’t have to get out of bed to bring them over.”

Lance went redder. “Thanks, Pidge.” He looked at Shiro, whose eyes were narrowed as he tried to do the math in his head.

“Did one of you leave the shop unlocked last night?”

Pidge shook her head. “I picked Lance up and I tested the door because I thought he didn’t get the deadbolt right.”

“Spoiler alert, I did.” Lance stuck his tongue out at Pidge, who grabbed it between her thumb and forefinger.

Shiro’s brow furrowed and he rubbed his forehead.

“So Lance didn’t unlock the studio this morning.”

“Nuh-uh.”

Lance shrugged, wrestling control of his tongue back from his girlfriend. “Bathroom door’s closed. Hunk’s probably taking a dump.”

“Charming.”

Lance shrugged. “What else does he do before opening?”

In the confusion, nobody paid any mind to the phone, figuring the before-hours voicemail would take the message.

The door to Lance’s workroom tore open, and Lance shrieked in surprise, much to the bemusement of both Pidge and Shiro. The figure shoved past all of them, grabbing the phone off of the cradle.

“Black Lion, this is Keith.”

Shiro couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. There Keith was, bruising on his face fading to purple and yellow, glaring at the lot of him as he made his way behind the counter.

“Okay. What size? Okay. Send the design to tattoo@blacklionink.com. I’ll have Lance look it over before you come in but it sounds pretty straightforward. Uh. Yeah. No. It goes toward the price of your tattoo.” He spent a few minutes typing and clicking around on the computer. “Okay. You’re all set for four o’clock with Lance. Awesome. Bye.”

Once the phone was back on the cradle, Keith turned to the three people gawking at him.

“What,” Keith breathed. “Just gonna stand there and let me do all the work?”

Shiro could see Pidge out of the corner of his eye, and she looked like she was going to cry. Lance was shifting uncomfortably, but there was a little hint of a smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you, Keith.” Shiro controlled his urge to go in for a hug, figuring that the other man might still be sore from the week before and not wanting to give Lance any kind of validation for his outburst.

Keith looked away. “Yeah, well. I like it here.”

Before Shiro could say anything, Lance stepped up.

“Hey. About what I said…” he looked down. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it. I was taking my shitty insecurity out on you.”

Keith held up his hand. “Save it. I heard what you told Shiro.”

Lance let his head rise. “...Think we can be friends?”

Keith cocked his hip, resting a hand on it. “Depends. Are you going to give me Cuban coffee again knowing it’ll make me vibrate, literally?”

“That was once, and it was hilarious!” Lance defended. “But… no.”

“Then we’re good.”

Shiro couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. Pidge and Lance pulled Keith into a hug, not seeming to care about how he squirmed and squawked in protest.

“Come on, guys,” Shiro laughed. “We have work to do.”

He didn’t have time to protest when Pidge grabbed his arm and pulled him into the little group hug. Keith looked back at him with a smile, and Shiro could feel his heart melting into his shoes.

* * *

  
Over the next few weeks, Keith noticed that there was so much less friction in the studio. Lance tried to joke around with him even though Keith didn’t always catch on. Pidge kept him company while he worked, helping him switch out biohazard boxes and restock gloves. Shiro was… well, he was Shiro. He was still clearly shaken from being called out and had tried to keep his distance, but Keith could still occasionally feel eyes on his ass.

Halloween was quickly approaching, and so was Keith’s birthday. In the past, his birthday had always just been another day. He never bothered with a party or drinks. He was always too busy working to care. He’d been employed since he was fifteen, spending as many hours at work as he could to support himself. There had been no time for parties or birthdays.

All he had wanted was the day off, but Lance, Hunk, and Pidge had other ideas.

“Shiro, can we have a party for Keith?” Pidge asked. Keith leaned on the counter, grimacing at the idea of people crowding around him and giving him that much attention.

“It’s… really fine, Pidge. I don’t need a pa--”

Shiro shrugged. “I don’t care what you do after work.”

Pidge looked up at her boss with a playful little pout. “But we live in a one-bedroom apartment and Hunk lives with his dad and neither of us has a really cute dog to clean up after us when we spill food on the floor…”

Keith and Shiro seemed to realize what their angle was at the same time. Keith’s mouth fell open, but it was Shiro who spoke. “Pid--”

Lance stepped in. “We can’t let our new buddy Keith celebrate his birthday alone! It’s not every day you turn twenty…” he trailed off, looking at Keith for help.

“I’ll be twenty-three,” he grumbled, lip raised in annoyance. “And I’ll be fine alone. I always am. I just want to sleep.”

Taking every opportunity to be dramatic, Lance threw his arms around Keith’s neck. “Did you hear that? He’s lonely! We gotta do something!” He jumped away before Keith had the opportunity to punch him in the gut.

“You just want to get drunk and pet a dog,” Shiro accused.

Hunk grinned. “Yeah.”

“Kinda,” Pidge chimed in with a shrug.

Shiro sighed. “Well… with Pidge being underage, I’d feel better if you drank somewhere safe… Okay. Fine. But I’m taking everyone’s keys and locking them up until the morning.”

Keith gaped at his boss, betrayal on his face and in how his shoulders slumped forward. “Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Nope,” Hunk shook his head. “But I’m buying the alcohol. So if nothing else, you’ll be too wasted to care.”

Okay, that was an appealing thought. It would feel kind of good to let loose, even if it was just with his coworkers at his boss’ house. It wasn’t like he had any other friends. Alcohol was an expensive luxury. The budget of an artist’s apprentice living off of drawing commissions was too tight to include Bacardi.

But it still sounded like a taxing way to spend his day off.

“You guys just aren’t going to let up, are you?”

All of them, save for Shiro, shook their heads. “Nope.” Lance shrugged. “I think your address is on your consent form from when Pidge pierced you. I’ll just kidnap you.”

Keith’s eyebrow raised. “I’d love to see you try. But fine. If it’ll make you happy and make you shut up, I’ll show up.”

“Sunday?” Lance looked to Shiro for confirmation. “Sunday at seven. And quit with that mean muggin’, Keith. We all know you’re a total puppy dog,” he cooed. “What’s the worst thing you’ve done, huh? Stepped on a roach?”

Keith stared at him. “I broke a four hundred dollar flute over my knee and told my band director to eat my ass.”

Lance gasped playfully and nudged Hunk in the side. “Imagine the look on Shiro’s face if he said something like that to him.”

Keith blinked, face completely straight. “I wouldn’t. If I told Shiro to eat my ass, he’d do it.”

The shop went silent. Lance’s strained wheeze was the first to come, followed by raucous laughter. Hunk was damn near crying, pounding his fist on the counter. Pidge yelled about how she was going to pee her pants, scream-laughing as she waddled to the bathroom. Lance was on the floor.

Shiro was alarmingly red. His scar was practically the lightest feature on his face, his blush darker than Keith thought it could ever be.

“I gotta go back to work,” Shiro stated, eyes blank as he turned and walked away, shuffling soullessly back to his workroom and closing the door with a soft click.

Keith looked around. “What did I say?”

“I like you,” Lance breathed, trying to calm down. “You’re going to be fun as hell to get drunk.”

* * *

  
Keith didn’t really know how to dress for a party. Did he need to dress up? It was just the boys, plus Pidge, from Black Lion. He wasn’t trying to impress anybody. Even so, he decided that wearing pajamas wasn’t the smart move, and tucked a red t-shirt into the waist of a pair of skinny jeans with holes shredded into the thighs. He wore sneakers instead of the boots he normally trudged around in, not planning to take his bike anywhere.

Feeling dependent on others wasn’t his favourite, but he’d asked Lance to pick him up. He knew how he could get when he was drunk and wanted to eliminate the possibility of him making the attempt to drive.

Throwing his hair up into a low ponytail, he balled up a change of clothes into his gym bag. He didn’t need a repeat of last time, being stuck at Shiro’s house with nothing but a smile. He realized that he’d never given Shiro back the clothes he had borrowed, and shoved them in there, too.

The look he had been going for was completed with a tight-fitting leather choker that could only really be described as a collar, complete with a shiny silver buckle. After some thought, Keith chose to layer it with a ball chain that held two engraved steel guitar picks that were fashioned to look like dog tags. He threw on a black denim jacket that had been heavily decorated with iron-on patches. Staying on-brand, he threw on the fingerless gloves that he used to protect his hands while riding his motorcycle.

That was enough, right? Had he gone overboard? Maybe the choker was too much. He didn’t have much time to think about it, however, as his phone buzzed with Lance’s message of arrival.

‘GET OUT HERE, BITCH.’

As Keith placed his bag in the back seat of Lance’s car, he could feel the eyes on him.

“Are you planning to stay at Shiro’s for the next week?” Lance asked, staring back at the bag. “I mean, I plan on getting pretty damn drunk, but come on.”

Keith shrugged. “It’s not just clothes in there.” He kicked his feet up on the dash, figuring from the messiness of Lance’s car that he wouldn’t mind. He played with his mostly-healed tongue stud as they pulled out onto the street, poking it between his lips and holding it with his teeth.

“Ominous, but okay,” Lance shrugged. “Shiro said you smoke. Need a light or anything?”

Keith wrinkled his nose. “Only when I’m stressed. I’m fine.”

“Good. Because I was not excited about you… seeding the fabric of my seats with cigarette smoke. But I was going to let it happen for the sake of our new friendship.”

Keith let his head fall back on the headrest. “Keep driving, Lance.”

Lance parked behind Pidge’s car in Shiro’s driveway. He was relieved, not seeing any unfamiliar cars. Keith wasn’t one for making an ass out of himself in front of strangers… not on purpose, at least.

It wasn’t Shiro, but Matt who greeted them with a wave when they entered.

“Hey, guys! Come on, get a drink!”

Keith was going to need it. He looked around, not paying attention to how much vodka Matt was pouring into the punch he was making.

“Let’s get this started, huh?” Matt offered Keith a cup of the alarmingly red concoction he’d poured, and Keith took it eagerly.

Keith took a sip and damn near gagged. “God. How much liquor is in here?”

Matt beamed. “It’s very scientific, really. See, I needed to offset the dryness of the ginger ale, so I added—“

Keith raised an eyebrow.

“A lot. Drink it slow,” Matt deadpanned.

Keith turned to wander around the townhouse but was stopped by a very excited Pidge. He could see her cup, and she only had a little bit of punch left. She had to be tipsy.

“Hi, Keith,” she grinned. “Aren’t you looking like a model for Cute Motorcycle Boys Magazine.”

Yeah. She was drunk.

“Hi, Pidge,” he greeted, staring down at the blush on her face.

“Have you met everyone here?” She asked, seeming to not notice when Lance snuck up behind her and traded her alcohol for a water bottle. “There’s… Matt. Hunk is making snacks. His girlfriend couldn’t come, isn’t that lame? You’re here. I’m here. Oh, Shiro took Paladin on a walk. She’s so cute.”

Keith nodded absently. “Yup. I know all of them. You forgot Lance, though.”

Her mouth dropped. “Lance!” She cried, clinging to her boyfriend’s waist.

“Welcome to Drunk Pidge,” Lance sighed fondly, downing what had been left of Pidge’s drink. “Nineteen, four foot seven, can’t hold her liquor worth a damn.” He hissed with the intensity of the drink.

Lance pat the girl’s head. “Just watch out. She gets kinda… punchy after a while.”

Pidge shrugged, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. It happens.”

Keith was probably going to Hell for admitting it, but he kind of wanted to see Pidge get feisty. It sounded hilarious.

For the next few minutes, he watched the interactions between his coworkers plus Matt. He didn’t always mind not participating in conversations. He liked to simply exist side by side with his friends, shaking his head and smiling to himself as Pidge and Matt argued over some kind of computer programming procedure. Hunk weighed in every now and then as he fried up some food, and Lance just looked lost. Keith was just there to watch the fire, so to speak, cup rarely leaving his lips. The drink was sweet and fizzy, and the burn warmed his stomach.

The alcohol went down easier with every sip, and before he knew it, he was going back for a second cup.

His attention was drawn away when he heard the door open and the shaking of a dog and her metal tags. Cute as Paladin was, Keith wasn’t looking at her. He was very much stuck on her handler.

Shiro was hot on the best of days. Keith was beginning to feel a little bit fuzzy in the head, but he looked especially good right then. His hair was swept away from his face, his dark blue shirt looked like he’d cut the sleeves off of it with a dull knife, and his bootcut jeans were just tight enough to let his imagination wander. Keith saw dog tags and wondered to himself if they were genuine.

Shiro’s eyes met his, and Keith turned away before he could see the man’s reaction. After a short visit to the restroom, he moved to the couch, already feeling a little bit unsteady on his feet. Mindlessly scrolling through his phone, he watched Shiro out of the corner of his eye as he poured a drink and tried to talk Pidge out of filling her pockets with chicken nuggets. Keith let all of his focus turn to his phone even as the words grew harder to read, and he didn’t even notice that Shiro had walked over until he felt the couch cushion dip beside him.

“Hey,” Shiro greeted, offering food from a rather overfilled plate. Keith put his phone down and crossed his legs, swaying a little bit as he turned so that he was a little more receptive to conversation. Shiro had food, and at that moment, Keith would die for a carbohydrate. He plucked a pretzel off of the plate and snapped it between his teeth.

“How long have you been in? Are you having a good time?” Shiro handed him a chicken nugget that was buried under a pile of chips.

Keith shrugged. “Uh. Not sure. Maybe like half an hour. I already had one of these… red things.” His words were starting to string together as he shook his cup. “Yeah. It’s nice. Not too loud.”  
Shiro looked him over. “You look great.”

At the compliment, Keith rubbed the back of his neck. “...Thanks. Uh, you look good, too.”

Shiro smiled, his head falling back against the couch. “Lance wanted it to be a little crazier, but I kind of wanted this to be about you. It’s your birthday, right?”

Keith had to look at his phone to confirm. “Hey. Yeah, guess so.” He took a gulp of his punch, able to more or less ignore the burn. He felt relaxed, his normal baseline feeling of mild irritation fading away.

“Huh. I guess I just never really cared about my birthday. I never really celebrated it.” He shrugged. “That was my mom’s thing, and when she left, my dad kinda gave up on everything.”

Oh god. He hadn’t meant to say all of that. Despite very much blaming the alcohol for his outburst, he took another swig so he’d forget the embarrassment that much faster.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to get dark.”

Shiro let his arm, which had been resting on the back of the sofa, fall around Keith’s shoulders. He pulled him closer, and Keith let him.

“No. Get as dark as you want. You’ve seen my dark side. It’s only fair that I let you show me yours.”

Keith rolled his eyes, relaxed enough to rest against Shiro’s chest. “There’s not much to it. I don’t remember a lot of it. One day, I’m sitting on the living room floor, coloring her tattoos in with markers. The next, she’s gone. Who knows.” He picked at Shiro’s food idly, until he looked down in confusion when there were no more pretzels.

Shiro brought his hand down to play absently with Keith’s ponytail. “Your mom had tattoos, huh?” He placed fingertips on Keith’s cheek, encouraging him to look over and stop glaring at the food. “Ever wonder if that’s where your passion comes from? Some kind of connection with her?”

“Maybe,” he realized, blinking up at Shiro. “What about you? Were you inspired by your ink-covered granny?” Keith teased, feeling the shiver under his fingertips as he ran his hand along the spacescape on Shiro’s bicep.

Shiro shook his head, flexing a little bit, giving Keith no indication that he wanted him to stop. “I just wanted to cover my scars, honestly.” He sighed. “It’s bad enough that I can’t always control where my head is. I didn’t have any say in getting these scars… but I wanted to have a choice in how people see them. I don’t want people’s first thoughts about me to be, ‘Woah, check out the guy with the weird arm.’”

Keith scoffed. “Please. People would say your arm is weird now if they saw it. Or they say something like ‘He’s so fucking hot, I want to eat food off of his abs.’”

“Keith,” Shiro groaned, cheeks going pink.

Keith sat up from where he slouched, letting his eyes meet Shiro’s. “And another thing,” he began, voice raising a little bit as he started to feel the effects of the alcohol intensify. “I’m mad that you treat me different now that I know you have the hots for me.”

Shiro looked down at him, halting the hand that had been idly toying with Keith’s hair. “I didn’t think I did. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’m still sorry that you had to kno--”

“Shut up,” Keith cut him off. “And I’m mad because you didn’t ask how I felt about it.”

Shiro looked like he was searching for words. “You seemed upse--”

Keith sucked down the rest of the contents of his cup. “Yeah, well it wasn’t because I was mad that you were looking at my ass.” He looked toward the kitchen, throwing himself over the back of the couch. “Lance!”

Once Lance was looking, Keith shook his empty cup. Shiro put his hand on Keith’s back to prevent him from toppling over the back of the sofa.

Lance made his way over, trading Keith’s empty cup for one that was full of alcohol. “Damn, I can’t believe you finished that already. Are you tryin’ to puke later? You a secret alcoholic?”

“I never drink, and this is too sweet to make me too drunk.” Keith took a long chug, and Shiro and Lance shared a look of alarm.

Not wanting to be left out, Pidge clamored over, using Lance’s body to hold herself up. She tugged on his sleeve, whispering something into his ear that Keith couldn’t quite catch. Lance nodded and gingerly pat Keith’s head.

“Hey, buddy. How do you feel about taking your shirt off?”

Keith shrugged. “You know, it’s a little hot in here.”

Lance made his way to the other side of the couch, tilting the drink up toward Keith’s face and encouraging him to drink while helping him stand up and out of Shiro’s gentle hold. Keith handed control of the cup over to Lance, continuing to drink while shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto Shiro.

“I was in a frat in college, and we had a tradition,” Lance announced to everyone in attendance. “And I think, to give Keith here a proper birthday, we need to continue that tradition.”

Keith let his head roll back, staring back at Lance with intrigue in his eyes. The alcohol was already doing its toll on him, not that he’d had a lot of tolerance to begin with. When he felt a hand on his back and slight pressure, he walked. Lance was leading him to the dining room table and helped him sit down on top of it.

“We’re gonna do body shots,” Lance announced. The rest of the party cheered and catcalled. Keith didn’t really know what was happening, but he laid down on the table and let Lance pull his shirt up enough to reveal his stomach and the thin line of dark hair leading from his navel and down into the waistband of his underwear. The table felt cold on his exposed lower back, but the drink had warned his skin. It felt nice. He loved the effect that alcohol had on him. He felt relaxed, unbothered, and just wanted to let loose.

Keith watched, playing with his tongue stud as Hunk brought over some coarse salt, lime wedges, and a bottle of tequila. Pidge grabbed the salt from him and reached out to pat Keith’s belly.

“Allow me to demonstrate,” she began. “Have your subject hold a wedge of lime in his mouth.” She thrust the fruit into Keith’s mouth, peel side against his tongue. “Lick his skin, which helps the salt stick.” She licked a stripe by his navel, sprinkling some salt onto the damp skin, ignoring as he squirmed with a choked laugh. “The point is to lick the salt, have a kind helper pour a shot of tequila into his belly button. Lick it up, then grab the lime.” She nodded to Hunk, licked the salt, drank about half a shot of tequila out of Keith’s navel, and grabbed the lime.

Keith writhed, actively laughing and rubbing at his stomach when she was done. It fucking tickled.

Matt raised his hand. “You know, I love knowing that my sister knows how to take a shot off of a dude as much as the next guy, but shouldn’t the birthday boy be taking the shot?”

Lance shrugged. “Yeah, I’d offer, but..” he raised his shirt, showing off a tattoo that said, in fancy script, ‘RIDE HARD.’ “Nobody wants to be looking at this while they’re trying to focus on drinking. It’s distracting.” Lance poked at his stomach. “I got it when I was sixteen and someone refuses to cover it up.” He shot a glare in Shiro’s direction. “Says it gives me character.”

“...It sure gives you something,” Matt winced.

Pidge leaned down so she could whisper into Keith’s ear, pointing at the tattoo. “I totally do, by the way.”

Keith laughed. He couldn’t help it. This was all so absurd, but unsettlingly okay. “Can we move this along? My stomach’s getting cold.”

Matt declined to participate, wanting to stay reasonably sober to make sure everybody stayed safe. Hunk went next, accidentally blowing a raspberry onto Keith’s belly and earning a shriek and a knee to the chest. Hunk fell over laughing, while Lance stepped up to take his turn. Among all of them, Lance was the worst. Tequila went everywhere but into his mouth, and he squirted lime juice into his own eye.

“Is that everyone?” Pidge slurred. “Oh! Shiro!” she waved at Shiro, who was watching shyly from the couch. “Come on, you gotta do it.”

“That’s okay,” Shiro raised and waved both of his hands. “I’m already pretty drunk. I’ve had three or four cups of punch already.”

Pidge toddled over, tugging at her boss’ arms while the rest of them watched. “One more shot isn’t gonna put the nail in the coffin. You’re, like, nine feet tall. Come on. Just be careful, he’s ticklish.”

Keith kept his head down on the table, knowing he’d get dizzy if he tried to sit up. By the time Shiro had been convinced to come over, he’d writhed some hair out of his ponytail, and he had to use a hand to keep his shirt pulled up. His cheeks were flushed and his grey eyes half-lidded and watching Shiro’s every move. His lips were swollen and parted, just a little bit raw from the acidity of the lime.

“Come on, boss. Don’t you wanna take a shot?” he asked, letting the arm that he wasn’t using to hold up his shirt fall behind his head.

The temptation seemed to prove too much for Shiro, and he settled at the end of the table. While the others had taken their shots from the side, Shiro grabbed Keith by the hips and pulled his ass to the edge of the table, earning a gasp of surprise.

“Put your legs around my waist, sweetheart,” he encouraged softly, and the pet name sent a shiver up Keith’s spine as he watched Shiro’s every move. He did as he was told, using Shiro’s body to anchor himself as Shiro licked a stripe up the middle of his lower stomach before covering the spot with salt and retrieving the last slice of lime from the dish. Keith felt Shiro’s grip tighten and his body tense like a loaded spring.

He took the shot with an intensity that the others had lacked. His tongue didn’t tickle, but made Keith gasp. He hadn’t let a drop go to waste as Hunk poured, licking any stray drops off of Keith’s sides. Shiro held eye contact as he bit into the lime, allowing a small stream of juice to run from the fruit onto Keith’s lips. He licked his mouth slowly, running the end of his piercing along his top lip, and something seemed to snap inside of Shiro.

Shiro spit the spent lime onto the floor and pinned Keith’s arms above his head, diving in for a kiss that knocked all of the wind out of his lungs and the sanity from his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Next chapter is where most of the feelings come to a head! I hope everyone enjoyed this little taste of excitement! Feel free to leave a comment and kudos if you did!


	6. but he's singing a little in there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Shiro have their fun and deal with the aftermath.

Shiro didn’t know what had come over him, but he did know that Keith’s mouth was fucking heaven. Not caring who was watching, he slipped his tongue between Keith’s lips, having to encourage him to part his teeth.

He hadn’t had his fill, but he had to pull back to check in on the prone man that he’d just more or less stolen a kiss from.

Keith looked like a mess, panting for breath, hands staying where they’d been pinned though Shiro let go. His cheeks were redder than they had been prior, and his lips were glossy with their saliva.

“Shiro,” He panted.

In a moment of sobriety, Shiro took a step back, allowing Keith to keep a leg hooked around his hip while the other dropped.

“Holy shit. I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry—“

Keith sat up. He swayed a little bit, but still managed to grab a handful of Shiro’s shirt.

“When are you gonna shut up and let me tell you that I think you’re hot, too?”

Shiro swore he felt his heart stop in his chest. He had no time to answer, however, as he felt clumsy lips against his. Keith had no idea what he was doing, that much was clear as he pressed puckered lips to Shiro’s and opened one eye to check in.

Chuckling, Shiro leaned forward, one hand braced on the table while the other supported Keith’s back. This kiss was slower, gentler. He gave Keith time to relax into it and felt strong arms wrap around his shoulders.

When they parted, Shiro was acutely aware of the audience. His brow furrowed and he turned to look at a shocked Lance, a teary Hunk, a triumphant-looking Pidge and a very proud-looking Matt.

“It’s about time,” Pidge rolled her eyes. “I’ve been waiting months for that seal to break.”

“I thought I was just being crazy!” Lance cried. “Ohmygod. I have the best gaydar. This is amazing. I’m a superpower. Superhero. I have superpowers.”

Letting the others gush, Shiro looked down at Keith, who was still staring at his face.

“You’re hot,” Keith slurred. “Like, unfair hot.”

“Thank you,” Shiro laughed, stroking his hair back. “You’re pretty damn good looking yourself.”

Keith gave the drunkest laugh that Shiro had ever heard, off-pitch and a little too enthusiastic, pawing uselessly at Shiro’s shirt. “Kiss me again. I like it.”

Shiro stared down at him. He must have taken too long to decide, as Keith pulled him down and kissed him with drunken, sloppy, inexperienced vigor.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Shiro sighed into Keith’s neck as they parted, pressing a few kisses under his ear.

Matt spoke up. “Okay, okay. It’s all fun and games until someone shoots an eye out.”

Shiro looked over in time to see Pidge raise her arms and yell, “Eyyyyy!”

Matt glared at his sister and turned to Shiro. “Are we done for the night? Should we let you two… catch up? Alone?”

“In the bedroom and not on the dining room table?” Lance interjected.

Shiro shook his head, gently helping Keith to lie down on the table. “No. We’re both pretty drunk. It wouldn’t be fun.”

Matt turned around and came back with a full cup of punch for Shiro.

“Not drunk enough. We’re breaking out Mario Party.”

“Oh, God no.”

“Oh, God yes.”

* * *

  
As Shiro had expected, the game turned violent quickly. Pidge was competitive and vulgar, and Lance just wanted to beat Keith. Keith had been winning for most of the game, mostly due to luck. When Shiro was busy with a mini-game or otherwise had to be paying attention, Keith was cheating, invading his space and looking up at him with those big, bright, exceptionally grey eyes and trying to distract him.

He played dirty. And he would have won, too, if Matt hadn’t gotten lucky and threw Keith off of his first place throne.

“Aw, suck my ghost dick,” Keith hollered, dropping his controller into Shiro’s lap. He’d been playing the little ghost that Shiro couldn’t remember the name of, and the insult had taken Shiro by surprise. Shiro tried to control his laughter, taking a sip from a cup of punch that he’d confiscated from Pidge.

“I’ll decline,” Matt gloated.

It was getting late. It was well past midnight. Hunk had left the game early when he started snoring on Lance’s shoulder. Shiro got up to go to the bathroom and returned to the sound of Lance and Pidge tandem-vomiting into the kitchen sink.

Shiro looked at Matt. “Remind me when I’m sober that happened.” He pointed at the puking couple, shaking his head as Lance started to cry in Pidge’s arms.

“You two get the guest room.” Shiro pointed. Pidge nodded, dragging Lance off to bed.

Matt yawned, leaning against the wall. “Guess I’d better head out, huh?”

Shiro shook his head. “You may not be drunk, but it’s way too late, and there’s too much of a risk that there are other people driving drunk. You can sleep on the couch.”

Matt spared a glance at Hunk. “Don’t think I’ll fit.”

“There’s a recliner in the spare bedroom,” Shiro offered. “I sincerely doubt Lance and Pidge have the energy to do anything other than sleep.”

“And what about you?” Matt asked lowly, pointing to Keith, who had wandered off to the kitchen looking like he was in search of water. “Gonna be up for a while?”

Shiro smacked Matt’s shoulder. “We’re both still drunk. Nothing is happening.”

Both of Matt’s brows rose. “Oh. It already has.”

Once Matt disappeared into the bedroom, it was just Shiro and Keith. Keith had managed to find a water bottle and was attempting to chug it all in one go. Shiro walked over, opening the door to the freezer, grabbing a mostly-eaten pint of vanilla ice cream and a spoon out of the drawer.

“Ready for bed?” Shiro asked, tugging the top off of the ice cream and placing it on the counter, scratching gently at Keith’s back.

Keith nodded weakly, clutching the water to his chest. “Can I sleep with you?”

Shiro wasn’t sure he’d heard that correctly. “Hm?”

“I wanna sleep in your bed with you.”

Shiro felt dizzy. His heart was beating against his rib cage. “Okay,” he agreed. “But if you get uncomfortable, I can make Hunk get up… that couch is a pull-out.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, lemme sleep with Hunk instead of the guy I’ve been making out with all night.”

“Alright, smartass,” Shiro smiled playfully, leading Keith to the bedroom.

Just like the rest of the house, Shiro’s bedroom was kept tasteful and simple. The bed was unmade, black sheets showing under the black, white, and grey duvet cover. Shiro sat next to Keith as he flopped back onto the bed, black hair sticking up and blending into the sheets. Shiro took the water from him and placed it on the nightstand. He laid beside him, spooning the ice cream into his mouth. Keith rolled, staring at him with glazed, confused eyes.

“What the fuck kind of late-night snack is vanilla ice cream?”

Shiro shrugged. “Oh, I’m going to puke this up. Vanilla ice cream feels okay coming back up.” He offered a spoonful to Keith, who took it without fuss.

“You didn’t drink that much.”

Shiro shrugged. “I drank enough to feel it in the morning. I find that if I puke the night before, it makes the hangover better.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Vomiting is for the weak. My liver can handle itself.” He sighed, holding his arms up after a struggle to get up. “I am gonna pee, though.”

“Use the master,” Shiro gestured, standing up to help Keith up. He failed, however, falling on top of him with a grunt.

They stared at one another for a moment. Shiro brought both hands under Keith’s head. He hooked a finger under the band holding his hair out of his face and tugged it off, tossing it off somewhere in the room and running his fingers through Keith’s hair.

He let Keith initiate a kiss, smiling into his mouth as Keith licked his lips, probably looking for more vanilla flavor. When they parted, Keith rolled out from under him, giving a stronger attempt to get up.

“Be right back,” he muttered, closing the door to the master bathroom and leaving Shiro alone on the bed.

Shiro had to take a minute to calm down and calibrate his swimming head, lying against the pillows and taking deep, cleansing breaths. He couldn’t believe it. Keith was going to come back from that bathroom and lie down beside him. They were going to share a bed. The thought made his heart pound and his head feel light. Nothing was going to happen— Shiro was too lightheaded and just the slightest bit nauseous to enjoy himself. Even still. The thought of Keith sleeping beside him sparked something in his gut that he hadn’t felt in years.

When Matt had said that Shiro hadn’t talked about crushes since boot camp, he’d been right. Shiro had always found that talking to a romantic prospect was difficult, and it had become nearly impossible since his injury. He simply lacked the drive to search for someone. But Keith had fallen into his lap. He was heaven sent.

He was absolutely wasted.

Keith shuffled back to the bed, having shed his pants in the bathroom. After allowing himself a moment to look, Shiro opened his arms and welcomed Keith back to bed. Keith fell right onto his chest, and Shiro shifted him so that his head was resting on the soft part of his shoulder, right above his armpit.

“Where did your pants go?”

“Can’t sleep in jeans,” Keith slurred. “My sleep stuff is in Lance’s car.”

Shiro stroked Keith’s hair, letting his hand fall to the leather choker around his neck. “I’m going to take this off of you,” he warned. Keith rolled, giving Shiro a little bit more access to his neck. With his arm pinned under Keith’s body and with his current lack of coordination, he couldn’t get the buckle undone with one hand.

“Here, sweetheart. Sit up.”

Keith groaned as if the thought of sitting up hurt him. “I’m comfortable.”

“Yeah, well, breathing in the middle of the night is comfortable, too.”

Sloppily, with limbs loose and uncoordinated, Keith swung his leg over Shiro’s hips, shifted so he was straddling them and holding his torso up with hands on Shiro’s chest.

“This is all you get.”

“This is all I need.” Shiro unbuckled the choker and placed it on the nightstand. Though the guitar pick necklace was probably fine, he took that off of him, too, not wanting to risk any injury.

Once Keith’s neck was bare, Shiro curled up, pressing a few kisses to Keith’s jawline and down his neck. His own inebriation was making him needy and bold. Keith moaned, head rolling back and vibrations reaching Shiro’s lips. Keith let his torso fall slowly, and brought his lips to Shiro’s.

Shiro couldn’t get enough. Keith tasted like fruit and vanilla, the liquor strong on his breath. He was exceedingly drunk and inexperienced, but that didn’t matter to Shiro as much as the fact that it was Keith. The cocky, stubborn boy that had taken his breath away from the moment they’d met was on top of him, giving him touch he’d been starved of for too long. He thought, tongue making its way into Keith’s mouth, that he’d better enjoy this while it lasted.

Morning would come and sobriety would rise with the sun. Would Keith remember any of this? Would he remember the feeling of Shiro’s hands on his hips or the gasp he gave when Shiro bit his bottom lip? His stomach filled with dread at the thought of Keith waking up in Shiro’s bed, confused by how he got there and horrified to learn what had happened.

The kisses began to lessen in intensity. He could tell Keith was tired. He broke their kiss with a sigh, smiling up at Keith and letting his hands roam under his shirt, his skin sticky with dried tequila.

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed, helping Keith lie down on him again. Keith snuggled into him like he was trying to sap his body heat. His ear was directly over Shiro’s heart, their legs intertwined.

They laid together in perfect silence for a few minutes. Shiro expected Keith to fall asleep, but his eyes stayed open, even as Shiro stroked his hair. He wanted to ask what Keith was thinking about, but he was enjoying the peace far too much.

“...I don’t want to leave,” Keith muttered against Shiro’s chest.

“Hm?”

Keith didn’t move, but his eyes closed. “After my apprenticeship. I don’t want to leave.”

Shiro tightened his hold. “Hey, don’t worry about that yet. You’re not going anywhere until you’re ready.”

Keith shook his head. “But I never wanna go anywhere. I want to be with you. Don’t go anywhere.”

Shiro smiled, but he couldn’t help the pang in his chest as Keith kept babbling on.

“I want you all to myself.”

There was no way that Keith knew what he was saying. Or, if he did, he didn’t mean it the way Shiro had taken it. He licked his dry lips, knowing he had to say something. “That’s awfully selfish.”

“I know.”

Shiro squeezed his eyes shut, running his knuckles softly against Keith’s cheek and cursing that deceptively innocent son of a bitch. “Go to sleep, Keith. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Yeah, I’d sure fucking hope so, this is your house.”

Taken completely by surprise, Shiro laughed from deep in his chest. “Okay. Brat.”

Keith fell asleep after a few minutes, full-body twitching against Shiro as he drifted off. Once Shiro was confident that Keith was out cold, he took the time to separate their limbs, tiptoeing off to the master bathroom, closing the door, and falling to his knees in front of the toilet. Not putting too much thought behind his actions, he forced himself to throw up. He rose with a groan, flushing and turning around to brush his teeth. He could see his lips in the mirror, swollen and red from their makeout session. He ran fingers through his hair, shaking it loose from the product that had been holding it back.

He returned to bed after taking the time to take his shirt off and find a pair of lounge pants. He didn’t mind stripping in front of Keith-- he was out like a light, curled into a loose fetal position directly in the middle of the bed.

Of course.

Shiro chose to lie down at Keith’s back, rolling onto his side and spooning him with an arm draped around his waist. Keith wiggled against him for a moment before settling down. It was nice-- Shiro had let Paladin stay in the living room, not needing an alarm for the morning and having plenty of companionship right there in his arms.

Shiro was lulled to sleep by the sound of Keith’s breath. He didn’t snore, but his mouth hung wide open. One minute Shiro was musing on how he’d gotten to that point in his life, and the next, everything went dark.

* * *

 

Morning came and Shiro awoke to darkness. He blinked a few times, sleep-impaired brain trying to piece together what was happening. Was it still early? Had the sun not risen yet? There was something in his mouth. He licked his lips and realized that it was hair.

Oh.

Shiro rolled onto his back, clearing Keith’s hair from his face. The room was well-lit despite the curtains, and a glance at his clock revealed it to be just past noon. Keith was still asleep beside him, though his breathing was light and he was beginning to move as if noticing the loss of warmth from his back. He finally turned over, blinking up at Shiro as his eyes watered, seemingly not ready for the light.

“Hey,” Shiro greeted him. “How are you feeling?”

He was answered with a groan and Keith turning onto his stomach, face buried in the pillow.

“That good, huh?”

Shiro was tempted to touch him, to rub his back, to pull him close, but he bit down on the urge. Keith didn’t look like he felt well in the slightest. It would be wrong of him to assume that it would be okay.

After a few minutes, Keith brought his face up from the pillow, resting on his cheek and facing Shiro. Shiro could feel Keith rub his legs together under the blanket, then stare at his bare chest.

“Did we…?” Keith trailed off, looking a little bit nervous.

Oh. “No. God no. We just kissed.” It was better to go with honesty.

Keith nodded and flopped onto his back. “I remember that part.” He grimaced. “God. I’m sorry. It was probably terrible.”

Keith had remembered? After all of that liquor? Huh. And he hadn’t slipped away while Shiro had been sleeping.

“Do you regret it?” Shiro asked quietly, daring to look at Keith’s face, though the thought of seeing a negative reaction on his face terrified him.

With every tick of the clock, Shiro’s stomach sank lower and lower. Maybe it was for the best. They had been drunk. They’d had their fun. But they did have to go back to work eventually, and it was better to not have it be more complicated than it already was.

“...No.”

Shiro blinked out of his thoughts, faced with a calm smile from a boy who looked like absolute hungover garbage.

“Kei--”

“Shut up and trust me,” Keith scowled. “I said I didn’t regret it.”

Shiro reached out, his tattooed hand cupping Keith’s cheek. He ran his thumb over Keith’s lips before dragging it upward, feeling the weight of his head in his palm.

Suddenly, Keith tore away from him. He rolled out of bed, stumbling on a stray pair of Shiro’s shoes and Shiro could hear him hit his foot on the dresser as he ran to the bathroom. He didn’t even close the door, dropping to his hands and knees and retching into the toilet.

Shiro stood, ignoring the slight pounding in his head, following Keith into the bathroom and sitting behind him, gathering Keith’s hair away from his face and holding it in one hand while the other rubbed at his back. He stayed there until Keith was done, wiping his mouth and leaning back against Shiro’s chest after flushing the toilet.

“Sorry,” he panted. “That killed the mood real fuckin’ fast.”

Shiro shook his head, standing and pouring Keith a capful of mouthwash. “Don’t worry about it. You got pretty wasted. How’s your head?”

Cheeks puffed out as he swished, Keith shot Shiro a glare that said, ‘I am dying and wish to be dead.’ As soon as Keith spit into the sink, he rested his head on Shiro’s chest.

“Let’s get you some aspirin?”

As if on cue, a soft knock on the door stole their attention. “Come in!” Shiro called, holding Keith’s head against his chest as he grimaced at the yell.

Pidge poked her head in. “Hey, just wanted to make sure you two were okay.”

Keith broke away from Shiro, holding up his pointer finger, and proceeded to resume vomiting.

Shiro nodded. “Uh. We’re alive. Don’t know about okay.”

Pidge winced. “Yeah, I can see that. Matt went and got breakfast from Chick-fil-a if that interests anybody.”

Hugging the toilet bowl, Keith looked back and nodded. “Yeah. Just… give me a second here.”

Once Pidge was out and Keith looked like he was done vomiting for real, Shiro gave him another helping of mouthwash.

“So,” Keith leaned against the sink, and Shiro could see him tracking his movements through the mirror. “What are we?”

Shiro placed both hands on Keith’s waist, and Keith turned to meet him.

“Let’s talk about this,” Shiro said, barely above a whisper. “But let’s wait until everyone leaves. I want to make sure we want the same things.”

Shiro turned to go to the living room but was stopped by a hand in his shirt and lips on his. He reached down to hold Keith’s waist after the initial shock passed, relaxing into it and feeling some of the tension release from his temples.

Pidge poked her head into the room. “Hey Shiro, your French Press is weir— oh.” She grinned at them. “Well, hey there, Lovebirds!”

Keith flipped her off as he grabbed Shiro’s face, not letting him pull away just yet. Shiro finally pulled away with a pop, smelling coffee brewing in the next room. Keith’s lips were divine, but couldn’t settle his stomach or calm his headache like coffee could.

“Wait,” Keith broke away from Shiro, grabbing a pair of spare lounge pants off of the floor. He stepped into them and tied them around his waist.

Shiro smiled before leading him back into the living area, where everyone was sprawled.

Pidge was fine. She was munching happily on her sandwich, and Shiro could see waffle fries poking out from under the bun. Lance was wiggling his head onto Pidge’s lap, picking at his fries and making the most pitiful whining noise. Hunk seemed to be functioning, pouring out six mugs of coffee, holding up a box of aspirin powder and looking like he was wondering if he should just save time and pour the powder into the coffee.

Matt stepped into the front door, Paladin heeling at his hip. “Wow, look who rose from the dead,” he teased. “Paladin was getting a little antsy so I took her out.”

“Thanks,” Shiro breathed, reaching down to pat the dog’s side. He retrieved a packet of aspirin from the box and downed it before claiming one of the cups of coffee. He sipped it, watching Keith follow suit. He loaded his coffee with cream and poured the powder directly into the cup. Keith stuck his tongue out with the bitterness, but set his jaw and downed the mixture anyway. He wandered over to the couch with his food, sitting beside Pidge as she and Lance argued over what to watch on TV.

He’d been so preoccupied with watching Keith that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Matt appeared beside him.

“Damn you, Holt,” he gritted through his teeth.

Matt shrugged. “How’d you two sleep?” he winked.

“Fine,” Shiro insisted, gently shoving Matt’s face away from his. “We’re gonna… talk later.”

Matt whistled. “Oh, well don’t let me keep you. I can take the kiddos and leave if you want.”

Shiro shrugged. “Let them recover a little bit. I gave them all today off for a reason. I don’t want to have a taxing conversation while he’s in pain.”

 

* * *

 

It took about an hour for the headaches and nausea to pass. Hunk was the first to go home, saying something about missing his girlfriend. Matt left shortly after, offering to take Pidge to the local computer parts store. Lance stayed a little bit longer to help clean up, including bleaching the kitchen sink he and Pidge had vomited into the night prior.

It was just him and Keith.They sat on the couch, watching the end of whatever stupid movie the others had decided on. Shiro felt his palm go sweaty and his heartbeat quicken as he felt Keith’s hand slide under his.

“So.” Keith looked up at him. “What did you wanna talk about?”

Shiro turned the volume down on the TV. “I want to know what you’re looking for out of this,” Shiro began. Though he was letting Keith hold his hand, he’d put some distance between them, crossing his legs.

Keith shrugged. “I guess I want to date,” he admitted. “I don’t want some kind of friends with benefits deal. Seems too complicated and limiting. What about you?”

Shiro nodded with an intake of air. “I’m looking for the same thing.” He looked away. “But Keith, you have to remember that I have… other factors to consider.”

“What do you mean?”

“...I tackled you to the ground and broke your nose.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “I know it wasn’t on purpose. I’m not… afraid of you, Shiro.”

Shiro sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and letting his head drop. “There’s a lot more to it that I don’t put you in a position to see,” Shiro admitted. “God, I don’t want to turn my problems into yours, but if we’re spending more and more time together, you’re going to see it more than I want you to. They don’t give service dogs for a flashback every now and then.”

Keith crossed his arms. “Shiro. I told you, you don’t scare me. Let me learn.”

Keith was stubborn, but it gave Shiro comfort knowing that he wasn’t acting like he was going to leave at the first sign of trouble. But that didn’t mean that Shiro’s anxiety quelled.

“I would like it if we took this slowly. I just… I want to make sure you’re ready for every new step we take.” Shiro could tell from the moment they’d kissed that Keith was inexperienced. He wondered if he’d be Keith’s first everything— but that was a thought for another time.

Keith poked his tongue stud through his lips a few times. “Okay. That’s fair, I guess.”

Shiro bounced his leg until Paladin trotted over and forced her nose under his hand. “And If something bothers you, talk to me, okay?”

Keith nodded. They sat in silence for a minute, Shiro idly petting the dog in front of him.

“What about work?” Keith finally asked. “Maybe I should work Monday and have Tuesday off so we don’t get sick of each other?”

Shiro smiled. “Yeah. That’s a good idea.” He reached down, letting his fingers ghost over Keith’s. “I’m not going to treat you any differently at work.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “So I should expect ass-ogling to continue?”

“...Unapologetically.”

“What about when nobody’s looking?” Keith asked, dropping his voice. “Is a kiss out of the question?”

“Well, that depends.” Shiro rubbed his thumb over Keith’s bottom lip.

“On?”

“If you’ve earned it or no—ow!”

Keith opened his mouth and Shiro broke free from his bite. They laughed together, Shiro resting one hand on the back of Keith’s neck and pulling him in for a slow, indulgent kiss.

“So,” Keith panted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What are we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! :D I just... can't stop writing. OTL This fic will now be seven chapters long. We're just getting to the good stuff. ;)


	7. and we sleep together like that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an emotional day, Keith and Shiro share a few firsts.

The first few weeks were awkward. Keith didn’t know what to do. Balancing learning from his mentor and dating him wasn’t exactly his area of expertise. But Shiro had led him with a kind, firm hand, just as he always did.

They had dinner together every Saturday night. Sometimes they’d go out-- and Keith would insist on paying, despite having no steady income. But as the weeks turned to months, Shiro invited Keith to his house and they would cook together. Rather, Shiro would cook, and Keith would distract him with banter or a kiss on the back of his neck. They would have fun, such as when Keith had been playing some stupid Fall Out Boy song on his violin while Shiro secretly filmed every second. Keith had caught on about halfway through ‘Sugar, We’re Goin Down’ and had leaped up from the couch, chasing Shiro through the house and trying to confiscate his phone before he could upload it anywhere.

He’d failed, but he had gotten about five hundred likes on Instagram.

It wasn’t all fun. Far from it. Shiro had hard days, and Keith was starting to be able to tell when they hit. He’d found him napping in the supply closet or in his workroom between clients more than once, having to wake him up gently with a hand on the shoulder. His first instinct was always to just leave Shiro alone, but he’d found that Shiro seemed to calm down more quickly when Keith was there with him.

One night, Keith had decided to stay over at Shiro’s after a long day and one too many beers. Keith went to bed before Shiro, mindlessly setting the alarm on his phone to give him enough time to go for a run before he had to start getting ready in the morning. Shiro settled next to him with a sigh, and they cuddled up for the night.

They always started off sleeping the same way. Keith would rest his head on Shiro’s shoulder, with Keith tucking his head under Shiro’s chin, letting his arm drape over his chest. They’d experimented with a few positions, but Shiro had insisted that one was his favourite, admitting to enjoying the warmth of his body heat and being able to busy his hands in Keith’s hair or along his back.

Keith, normally a deep and easy sleeper, was capable of remaining oblivious as Shiro kneed him in the ass or muttered nonsense into his ear. The urgent beeping of his alarm pulled him out of his sleep and he responded with a groan, flipping over with the intent of spending a little bit more time in the warmth of his lover’s bed. But when he moved to press himself against Shiro’s side, he found only empty space.

He found Shiro in the kitchen, braced against the island, head hanging low and arms outstretched.

“I’m sorry,” Keith had offered, standing beside him, arms crossed and leaning his back against the kitchen counter. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Shiro’s hands had been shaking as he straightened up, grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, and found a box of cereal.

“You didn’t know. It’s my fault. I should have told you.”

“Loud noises. I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

He could see the shaking intensify, a few pieces landing on the counter. Keith gritted his teeth. He walked over, putting a hand on Shiro’s back and reached out to take control of the box. His voice was calm, as gentle as he could make it. “Takashi. Babe, here, let me--”

Shiro jerked it back, cornflakes flying up into Keith’s face and hair.

“What the fu—“

“I’m not a child, Keith!” He hollered. Paladin stepped between them, nudging up at her handler’s hand. “And don’t fucking patronize me.”

Keith stared at him in shock. “I didn—“

“Just go. Ride Lance’s ass for the day. I’m going back to bed.” Shiro stormed back into the bedroom, leaving Keith dumbfounded and with a mess of cornflakes.

Keith was faced with a decision. Did he do as Shiro had asked, or did he stay? Shiro’d had a few panic attacks since they started dating. They were mostly mild, with a reassuring word and some space being all he needed. But something was different. Keith just didn’t know what, and he didn’t like it. If he left, he’d feel guilty for leaving Shiro alone during a difficult time. But if he stayed, it could lead to a fight. Neither was good.

Sparing a look at his phone, he knew he had to decide, and fast. He let out a breath, chest feeling tight, and clicked on a contact.

He’d made his choice, knowing full well he could catch hell.

After calling Hunk and telling him he’d be out for the day and to reschedule Shiro’s appointments, Keith swept up the mess and ate what little cereal Shiro had managed to actually get into the bowl.

Keith planted his ass on the couch, letting his legs hang over the arm as he scrolled through social media on his phone. He dozed off once or twice, waking up completely around noon when his stomach was protesting its’ meager breakfast.

Figuring that because he and Shiro had been dating for three months he probably wouldn’t mind a fridge invasion, Keith fried up their leftover Mexican rice from the night before, adding eggs, frozen vegetables, and sliced avocado. The smell must have roused Shiro, and as the bedroom door opened, Keith steeled himself for a fight.

Instead, Shiro stared at him blankly.

“You didn’t go to work.”

“Nope.”

“...You didn’t leave.”

“Nope.” Keith popped the P, focusing his attention on spooning his food into a bowl. “Still hungry? I made more than enough.”

Shiro didn’t answer, and the next thing Keith knew, he was pulled into a crushing embrace. His brain took time to catch up, but when it did, Keith rested his hand on the back of Shiro’s head.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro breathed, voice shaky. “Fuck.”

“I know.” Keith pushed him away gently, holding up a bowl. “Eat.”

The two ate in silence, with Keith sitting on the floor between Shiro’s knees and Paladin at his side while Shiro sat on the couch. When they were both done, Keith handed his bowl up and sighed as he felt hands on his scalp.

“Why didn’t you leave when I told you to?” Shiro asked.

Keith closed his eyes. “You didn’t want me to. Not really.”

Shiro snorted. “What makes you think that?”

“Because I know you? You weren’t telling me to get the fuck out of your face because you were pissed and wanted me out. You were freaking out.”

Shiro was silent for a moment before he dropped at the waist, pressing a kiss under Keith’s ear. “Go to work, babe. I don’t know how much I trust that there’s actual work going on there right now.”

Keith let his head roll back. “I can stay,” he offered. “You sure you’re ready to be alone?”

“I’m twenty-nine years old. I’ll manage. Who knows, maybe I’ll come in later and do some walk-ins.”

Shiro needed to decompress, and Keith felt that he’d given him the reassurance that he’d needed. After taking a quick shower and saying his goodbyes to Shiro and Paladin, Keith made the trip to the studio to work for a little while. It would be worth it, even if all he did was sit in Shiro’s workroom alone, taking out his stress on a piece of pigskin.

* * *

  
Keith went to work the next day curious to see how Shiro was doing. They’d texted a little bit before bed the night before, but Keith had really wanted to give him space and time to come down from an emotional morning.

Something felt off from the moment Keith had stepped through the door. Hunk was grinning at him. Pidge was sitting on the counter, an eager smile on her face.

And Shiro was there, a hand on his hip.

Keith looked at his phone. “It’s nine fifty,” he deadpanned. “Why are you all here, and why are you all looking at me that way?”

Shiro stepped forward. “Come on, Keith. I have something for you.”

Keith followed reluctantly, suspicion plain on his face. It wasn’t like Shiro to give surprises. Shiro hated surprises. Why would he subject someone he cared about to them?

With a grin that didn’t settle Keith’s anxiety, Shiro opened the door to his workroom. There was nothing out of the ordinary in the room, save for the beautiful woman seated in the chair.

Keith gave Shiro a side-eye. “Is this your way of breaking up with me, or are you prostituting me?” he muttered under his breath.

Shiro either didn’t hear or was electing to ignore the comment. “Keith, I would like for you to meet Shay.”

Keith recognized her. She was in the studio frequently, usually spending a few hours in Shiro’s chair or discussing jewelry with Pidge. Her black hair was cropped into a pixie, her eyes wide and soft. Her ears were stretched to the point where Keith was pretty sure he could fit a hand through with enough patience, and she was covered in ink.

“Hello, Keith!” she waved, voice melodic and pleasant.

“Shay here has a question for you.” Shiro crossed his arms, a grin on his face.

Shay rolled up the sleeve of her sweater, showing a bare spot on her forearm by the crook of her elbow. “Would you be able to give me a tattoo? Right here?” She smiled at him.

Keith could feel his heartbeat in his ears. There was a live human sitting in front of him. A live human who was willing to trust him with her skin. He looked at Shiro with eyes wide and unbelieving, and Shiro simply nodded in response.

Keith pulled up the stool-- Shiro’s stool-- and rolled over. He could have stood, but his legs were feeling far too weak.

“What kind of design were you thinking of?” he spoke up, looking the area over.

“A cluster of crystals. In blue, please.”

Hunk walked in, holding a piece of the thermal transfer paper that was used to put stencils onto skin. He leaned down, handing the paper to Keith.

“Be careful with her, that’s my girlfriend.”

Keith’s jaw dropped. “She’s your girlfriend?”

Hunk sighed, dejected. “Yeah… we get that a lot.”

“Keith,” Shiro warned, “I know this is exciting and Shay doesn’t feel like a regular client, but don’t forget to remain professional.” Keith felt a strong hand on his shoulder. “Shay knows that you are an apprentice. I will be here every step of the way if you need help or a break.”

Keith nodded. “Right. First.” He made his way to the sink, washed his hands, and reached into the box containing gloves.

Lance, who had been watching from the doorway, stifled a snort. “Oh, someone thinks he’s an extra-large.”

Pidge gave him a high five.

Shiro shook his head and opened the cupboard, finding a new box of medium sized gloves and opened it for Keith. Keith gave a hint of a smile in appreciation and tugged a pair on. He returned to his client, carefully scrubbing the area with soap and water and shaving away any hair with a new razor.

“Explain it to me like I’m new. What are you doing?” Shiro asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Shaving gets rid of any hair that might get in the way of the gun.”

Once Shay’s arm was sufficiently hairless, he picked up a spray bottle and misted the contents over the area to be inked.

“This helps the stencil stick so the design doesn’t rub off while I’m working.”

Keith placed the stencil and looked at Shay for approval. She gave a thumbs up, and he sterilized the skin one more time.

He poured ink into caps-- black, white, light blue, a darker blue, and two shades of brown. He loaded the back of his glove with Vaseline, which he would rub over a line at a time, right before he placed the ink to reduce friction.

Just before Keith started, Shiro fitted him with a black surgical mask, hooking the loops over his ears in a gesture that shouldn’t have felt so intimate.

“Are you ready?” Keith asked. Shay nodded enthusiastically.

Keith’s foot hovered over the pedal for a good minute as he tried to center himself. He’d worked so damn hard for that moment, and it was finally there. He depressed the foot pedal, feeling it vibrate in his hand, before turning toward Shiro.

“Any last minute advice?”

Shiro smiled fondly. “Patience yields focus.”

Keith rolled his shoulders and relaxed, holding Shay’s skin taut as, finally, he brought the gun to her arm.

For his first tattoo, it wasn’t bad. Some of the lines were a little bit shaky, but Shiro pointed out that Shay could come back in a few weeks and have them straightened out if it bothered her. He did a good job with the colors, something he’d prided himself on from the beginning.

“I’m so proud of you,” Shiro whispered as Keith wiped Shay’s arm clean of blood and ink.

Hands still gloved, he coated the wound in ointment right after Shiro leaned in and took a picture. He bandaged it for her and sent her on her way, surprised when Shay leaned in and slipped a twenty dollar bill into his hand.

* * *

  
Keith found Shiro in the supply closet moments later, barely taking the time to close and lock the door before pinning Shiro up against the wall.

“Hey, boss.”

Shiro seemed to be expecting the impact, grinning down at Keith as he wrapped his arms around Shiro’s neck.

“Hey, baby,” came the response, both of Shiro’s hands resting on Keith’s waist.

Keith yanked him down for a kiss, standing on his tiptoes and pressing him into the white painted brick wall. He was riding the adrenaline rush of a lifetime. He felt like there was a loaded spring in his stomach, ready to go off at the smallest urging. He couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off of his face on his own, so maybe he could use Shiro’s face to help.

Keith groaned when Shiro pulled back to, from the way Shiro was breathing, catch his breath. Keith let his lips trail down Shiro’s throat, satisfied with the gasp he was rewarded with when he pulled the collar of Shiro’s shirt away and sucked hard where his shoulder met his neck.

“Keith,” Shiro moaned. “That was dirty.”

“Like you play fair,” Keith scoffed playfully, covering the hickey he’d just left on Shiro’s throat.

Keith was riding the most incredible high. At that moment, he felt like he could get away with anything. He pulled Shiro into another kiss, and while he was distracted, locked the door with a soft ‘click.’

“What are you doing, baby?” Shiro asked, voice breathy.

Keith reached down, pressing his hand into Shiro’s groin. “This.”

Of course they fooled around. They’d been dating for months. It was bound to happen. It would start with a makeout session in the kitchen or in the foyer if they were feeling particularly feisty. Shiro would lie Keith down on the bed or the couch, a leg between Keith’s knees, and they’d let their hands roam.

But they never got undressed. No matter how long they went, or how hard Keith was in his jeans, or how he could feel Shiro stiff against his thigh, no jeans were unbuttoned or sweatpants untied. Keith had been left frustrated more than once, but accepted Shiro’s kind and calm answer that they ‘weren’t ready yet.’

Fuck that. Keith was ready, and he knew exactly what he wanted.

Keith heard a hiss from Shiro, then felt a hand on his wrist. It was holding him tightly, but not pushing away. “God, Keith.”

Humming, Keith dropped to his knees. He could feel Shiro’s cock against his hand, not completely soft and twitching gently. The hand on Keith’s wrist released without a fight and relocated to his hair. Unzipping Shiro’s jeans, he slipped his hand into the fly and pulled the half-hard dick out of his boxers.

Oh.

Shiro was heavy in his hand, rapidly stiffening up, a drop of fluid at the tip. He was big. Maybe he shouldn’t be all that surprised. After all, Shiro was a big guy. He was going to have a big dick. Keith just hadn’t anticipated it being that big, and it made his confidence waver. Keith licked his lips, breathing out to calm the nerves that had begun to tickle in his stomach, eyes flicking up to look at Shiro’s flushed face.

“Keith,” Shiro gritted out, tugging at Keith’s hair. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“This,” he insisted, leaning down and licking a shaky stripe up the side of Shiro’s dick.

The taste wasn’t offensive. He went in for another taste, letting his tongue run over the slit.

“Fuck,” Shiro grumbled, dragging his hand down his face. “God damn that piercing to hell.”

Oh, right. He hadn’t even thought of his tongue piercing in that kind of light. Keith smirked, experimentally taking the tip into his mouth and rolling the smooth end of his piercing over the head of Shiro’s dick.

It was a little awkward, with Keith’s jaw rapidly exhausting and letting his teeth make contact with the skin he was trying to pleasure. He moved too quickly, and couldn’t figure out how to decrease the damn friction.

After a few moments, head thrown against the wall, Shiro pat Keith’s head and pulled him off gently. Keith looked up at him with questioning eyes, licking his lips and wiping his mouth.

“Let’s… let’s wait,” Shiro panted, tucking himself back into his jeans, petting Keith’s hair gently.

Keith stared up at him, jaw dropped, annoyance in his eyes. “Shiro. I’m ready,” he insisted loudly, rising to his feet. “What do I have to do to prove it? I just sucked your di--”

Shiro cut him off with a finger to the lips, followed by a kiss that left him gasping.

“Just until tonight,” he promised, kissing a line down Keith’s neck. “I want to do it properly. You deserve more than to give a rushed blowjob in the supply closet.”

Keith nodded absently, allowing his mind to wander. They were going to have sex that night. After three goddamn months, it was finally going to happen. His heart wouldn’t slow, and his palms were sweatier than they’d been when he was blowing Shiro.

“Go home and get some clothes. Then stay the night with me?” Shiro asked. “I’ve… gotta get some supplies,” he admitted.

“Sounds like a plan,” Keith breathed. 

* * *

 

They took a few minutes to calm down, with Shiro rubbing Keith’s back and Keith fluffing Shiro’s hair back out from where it had begun to stick to his forehead.

Keith exited first, finding Pidge restocking jewelry and rearranging her displays. Lance was sitting at Hunk’s seat. They were most definitely flirting, from the way Pidge was blushing and Lance was leaning forward.

The phone rang and Lance, being the closest, answered it. As he paced the lobby, Keith stole his seat and rolled over to Pidge. He messed with the hem of the zip-up jacket he wore, clicking his tongue stud on his teeth.

“Hey, Pidge. Can you do me a solid?”

Pidge shrugged. “Depends on what it is.”

Keith leaned in so he could keep his voice low. “Can you... grab me some Trojans on your lunch break?”

He wasn’t going to do it himself. The pharmacy by the shop didn’t have self-checkouts and he wasn’t sure if he would survive the knowing glances from the cashiers. Pidge wouldn’t care one bit. Keith didn’t like to think too much about his coworkers’ sex lives, but he did know that they’d been together since they were both teenagers. She could do him this one favor.

He could see the mischief brewing as Pidge lowered her glasses on her nose. “What?”

Keith grumbled, looking to make sure Lance’s back was turned. “I need condoms.”

“Ahhh! Why didn’t you just say so?” She asked, coming out from behind the counter. She approached Lance from behind and slipped her hand into his back pocket.

Lance turned in confusion. Keith was pretty sure that he was going to die, seeing her standing there with a strip of about six shiny, attractively wrapped condoms.

Calmly, Pidge tore one off of the strip and tucked it back into Lance’s back pocket. She placed the rest in Keith’s palm.

“There you go. Some nice, plain, lubed condoms.”

Keith’s face went red and he could feel his heartbeat in his ears. “Why do you have these?!” He cried incredulously, examining them, holding them between his thumb and forefinger by the edge.

Pidge stared at him. “Same reason you do.”

“Why so many?!”

Pidge smirked, sauntering back to the counter. “They’re good for mess-free cleanup. And Lance has been known to get excited and pop one every no--”

Keith brought both hands to his ears. “Nope. I’m done. I’m going to go… do anything but be here having this conversation right now.” As he walked away, he tucked the condoms into his own wallet and hid in Lance’s workroom.

“Thanks!” he called before slamming the door, leaving a smug Pidge and confused Lance behind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I SAID THAT THIS WOULD BE THE END. I lied. :') Don't forget to leave kudos and drop comments!


	8. and it's nice enough to make a man weep.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro gives Keith everything that he wants.

Over the rest of the day, Shiro found himself daydreaming. He thought about Keith, and how he’d look sprawled out on his bed, cheeks flushed and lips swollen. He always looked so beautiful when they made out, when they went to bed, or even when Keith was standing pantsless in the bathroom, scrolling through his phone while brushing his teeth, his hair sticking up in every imaginable direction.

Keith did things to him that he didn’t think were still possible. He was a beautiful distraction. When they kissed, the thoughts in his head dialed back to radio static. The warmth of his back on Shiro’s chest settled the electricity under his skin that urged him to pace or bounce his leg. They didn’t have to be doing anything, not in particular. Shiro would be at his desk in the bedroom, grumbling over his digital art tablet while Keith plucked away at his guitar in the living room. Even apart, just knowing that Keith was there brought him solace.

The best part of it was that Keith didn’t patronize him. He made no claim to be able to ‘fix’ Shiro and shut down the narrative any time Shiro opened his mouth about it. They simply coexisted together in a way that quelled the undertow of intrusive thoughts. He wondered every night that Keith laid down and fit perfectly against his side if this was what love felt like.

It was as terrifying as it was empowering. Shiro enjoyed his privacy. He didn’t like people to know how his head worked. But Keith had seen more than his fair share of anxiety flare-ups and sleepless nights, and Shiro constantly worried that he’d have enough one day. Panic attacks weren’t sexy.

He knew that Keith was ready to have sex. Makeout sessions were longer and Keith initiated most of them. Keith was handsy, let his voice drop seductively, let his hips sway… all signs pointed to ‘please pin me against the wall and ravish me.’

But, up until that day, Shiro hadn’t been convinced that sex was the right move. He wanted Keith so badly he could taste it, having to dig his fingernails into his palm or bite down on his tongue to keep his control. Keith was young and inexperienced, and he didn’t want to move too quickly.

But it was hard to argue with those hands at his fly or the mouth on his dick.

Shiro blamed adrenaline for his lack of discouragement when Keith had locked the door to that supply closet and dropped to his knees. He’d been so impressed with Keith, so proud of him for finally doing the thing he’d been working toward for months, that he’d let his emotions cloud his judgment.

And maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Keith’s words had hit their mark, and Shiro knew that it wasn’t fair to either of them keep stalling. They were going to have sex that night, and Shiro needed to get ready.

As soon as the studio was closed for the night, Shiro made his way home, stopping by the corner drugstore to pick up supplies. He tried not to be embarrassed, figuring that the nice clerk saw crazier shit every day than a well-dressed, put-together young man and his service dog buying a few tubes of lubricant, a box of Magnums, and some of his boyfriend’s favourite candies.

She stared at him the whole damn time.

Shiro had just enough time to shower and take care of Paladin before Keith showed up, letting himself in and kicking his shoes off in the foyer.

“Hey,” Shiro greeted, meeting Keith in the living room with a kiss as he took his jacket and bag from him. Keith’s hair was slightly damp as Shiro ran his fingers through it, and Shiro realized that Keith had gotten cleaned up, too. He pulled him close and buried his nose in his hair, having become addicted to the smell of his generic shampoo.

“You smell good,” Keith muttered against Shiro’s collarbone. Shiro rolled his head back and felt lips against his throat.

Shiro took Keith’s things to the bedroom. Keith had a small collection of clothes in the bottom drawer of his dresser, but they mostly for sleeping. The drawer was slowly filling, however, and Shiro couldn’t say that he minded. The band tees and sweatpants reminded him that he had someone who was willing to leave belongings there. He wanted to come back. Keith’s biggest gesture of trust up to that point had been leaving his guitar propped up against the wall, and Shiro found himself staring at it during sleepless nights or uncomfortable mornings when he needed something to ground him.

When he came out, Keith was sitting upright on the couch, messing with his tongue stud and scrolling through his phone. Shiro grabbed a little bag off of the counter and sat down beside Keith, tossing it gently into his lap.

Keith smiled up at him, opening the bag and popping a cinnamon candy into his mouth. Shiro pulled him into a more comfortable position, letting Keith lean back against his chest, settled between his legs as he looked for something good to watch. He didn’t want to rush right into it. He wanted it to feel natural.

It was clear to him that Keith was anxious by the way he was wiggling in Shiro’s hold, and Shiro leaned forward to kiss his ear. “Something on your mind?”

Keith took in air. “I’m kind of waiting for you to get this show on the road and stick your hand down my pants.”

Shiro laughed, tugging on Keith’s earlobe with his teeth. “What do I always tell you?”

“I swear to god, Takashi. If you give me another ‘Patience yiel--’”

“‘Patience yields focus.’”

“--ds fuck you.”

The pair laughed, with Keith flipping over so that they were chest-to-chest. Shiro’s hands moved to Keith’s waist, and Keith anchored himself with a knee between Shiro’s thighs. The burn started quietly in Shiro’s stomach as Keith lowered his mouth to his throat. Keith didn’t seem to care if he sucked constellations into the pale skin, and he was most definitely spurred on by the little gasps and moans Shiro gave him in response. A warm hand still covered in leather slid up Shiro’s shirt, and he could feel bare fingertips running over his obliques and the raised scars that marred his side.

As Keith’s mouth found its way to his, Shiro slipped his hands up Keith’s shirt in return. He grinned into the kiss as he was rewarded with a shiver.

“May I?” Shiro asked, breaking the kiss. He tugged gently on the hem of Keith’s shirt.

Keith nodded in response, and Shiro sat up against the arm of the couch. Helping Keith raise his arms, he pulled the plain black t-shirt off and tossed it aside.

God, Keith was beautiful. Shiro wasn’t sure why and had never wanted to ask, but Keith never seemed very interested in taking his shirt off. When they slept together, Keith would kick off his pants, but the shirt would stay on. He wouldn’t even come out of the bathroom after a shower undressed.

“Why are you staring?” Keith asked, and Shiro blinked back to reality as two hands rested on his cheeks.

“Because you’re the sexiest person I’ve ever seen.” Shiro wasn’t exaggerating. Keith was gorgeous, and he could barely believe that he was all his.

Cheeks red, Keith looked away, giving Shiro the opportunity to playfully run his thumb over one of his nipples. Keith gasped, sitting a bit more upright.

“Sensitive?” Shiro asked.

“What do you think?”

Not bothering with a verbal response, Shiro leaned forward and flicked his tongue over a nipple. The groan Keith choked out spurred Shiro on, as did the hand resting on the back of his head.

“You’re a dirty old man, Shirogane,” Keith gritted out.

Shiro pulled back so he could look at him, adoring the blush on his cheeks that was spreading down his chest. Shiro ran the tip of his index finger down the center of Keith’s sternum, through sparse black hair that was just beginning grow. The fuzz turned thick and dark below his navel, and Shiro found himself damn near petting it. But he couldn’t maneuver very well in that position, so he pat Keith’s sides, urging him up.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

Keith dismounted with a nod, and Shiro had to take a second to compose himself, eyes closed. But when he opened them again, the wind was knocked out of his chest and he was pretty sure that he’d started to hallucinate.

“Keith.”

Keith paused in his steps, lips parted, looking back over his shoulder at Shiro. Shiro stepped over quietly, sweeping Keith’s hair over his shoulder and away from his back.

“When the hell were you going to tell me about this?”

Shiro could damn near hear the grin on Keith’s face. “I told you the first day that we met that I had two tattoos. Not my fault that you didn’t ask, and I wasn’t going to take my shirt off fifteen minutes into a job interview.”

Shiro placed his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “I bet you would have if I’d asked you to,” he whispered into his ear, sucking a bright red hickey into his neck as he held Keith’s hips and dug his thumbs into his back dimples.

On Keith’s back, starting between his shoulder blades and reaching just above the waistband of his jeans was the geometric outline of the head of a lion. Broad strokes of watercolor accented the sharp, steady lines, and Shiro was absolutely mesmerized. Shiro had always considered himself a rational man. He didn’t believe in soulmates. But as Keith stood there, shirtless in the dim red light of the setting sun, he was certain that he was staring right at his.

He could stare later. They had much more pressing things to take care of. Keith practically dragged him to the bedroom, shoving Shiro down onto the unmade bed. Shiro held his arms up, allowing Keith to divest him of the shirt he wore. He let Keith play for a moment, chuckling at the feeling of lips, tongue, and teeth on his chest. Keith reached for the buckle of Shiro’s belt, but Shiro stopped him.

“Let me take care of you, Keith,” Shiro insisted, using Keith’s confusion to roll him onto his back.

“Shiro, what’re you--”

“Shh, baby.” Shiro pressed a kiss to Keith’s bare stomach, holding Keith’s leg down as he jerked and muscles fluttered under the skin. It seemed that Keith was just as ticklish sober as he was drunk.

Shiro unbuttoned the jeans Keith wore, struggling to pull them down where they clung to his calves. Once they were on the floor, he settled between Keith’s legs, fingers dipping under the waistband of the gray boxer-briefs with the darkened wet spot toward the middle.

“Let me make you feel good this time.”

Shiro might not have had a sexy tongue stud, but he knew how to use his mouth. He wanted to focus on Keith, give him one hell of a first time and get him excited for nights to come. He pulled Keith’s ass closer to the edge of the bed and yanked his underwear down. Shiro only bothered to free one leg so that he could settle between Keith’s thighs.

Holding eye contact, Shiro dipped down and took the head of Keith’s cock into his mouth. He held the base still as he began to bob his head. He loved the way Keith’s face scrunched up and his head fell back against the mattress.

“A-ah… Fuck.”

Shiro smirked, pulling off with a pop. He ran his tongue up the underside of the shaft, retracting his foreskin and lavishing attention on the-- apparently-- extremely sensitive head.

Keith’s hand flew to his hair and his hips arched up off of the mattress. Shiro lowered them with a firm hand, gently insisting that Keith not try to choke him. Keith was loud as Shiro built a steady rhythm, the air filled with cries and gasps that drove Shiro slowly insane. He was glad he didn’t live in an apartment complex-- Keith’s moans, whimpers, and babbling was loud enough to wake the dead.

“Shiro. Shiro. Taka-- aahh…”

Shiro stroked him with the hand that had been holding the base and gently supporting his balls. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.” He trailed off, stroking what he couldn’t fit into his mouth and rubbing soothing designs onto his hip with his thumb. Keith’s legs wrapped around his shoulders, and he could feel a clenched foot digging into his spine.

Keith let go with a yell, unable to keep himself from arching up off of the bed as he came. Shiro swallowed quickly, pulling off and wiping his mouth and chin. Keith was looking up at him reverently, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead and panting harshly.

Shiro crawled up his body and pulled him into a kiss, stroking the hair out of his eyes in the process. Keith seemed hesitant about letting him use tongue but gave in quickly enough. When they pulled apart, they couldn’t help but laugh, Keith coming down from a sex high, his pleasure contagious.

“God,” he covered his eyes with his hands. Shiro reached up and undid the velcro of his gloves, pulling them off and placing them on the bedside table.

“Not quite,” Shiro responded with a wink.

After giving Keith a moment to come back to reality, Shiro one again kissed his way down his body.

“What’re you do--” Keith began, but Shiro cut him off.

“I’m not done down here yet,” Shiro grinned, pressing a kiss to Keith’s inner thigh and throwing one leg over his shoulder. He could feel Keith trying to sit up, and reached out to push his chest back.

“Shiro.” Keith tugged at his hair. “What are you doing?”

Shiro nipped the tendon that ran through Keith’s groin and down his leg. “This,” he mocked, lifting Keith’s hips and licking over his entrance.

That seemed to drive the point home to Keith, who flopped back against the mattress and covered his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Fuck!” he cried.

“What, didn’t know that could feel good?”

“More,” Keith whined, digging his heel into Shiro’s back.

Shiro chuckled, giving another lick and patting Keith’s hip. “Alright, then. Roll over.”

Keith didn’t have to be told twice. He rolled onto his stomach at Shiro’s urging, and Shiro helped manipulate his body so that his knees were on the bed and his ass was in the air. Embarrassing position aside, Keith looked good enough to eat. The lion on his back was perfectly accented by the defined line of his spine. His perfect, flushed face was visible against the black sheets. Shiro took a second to commit the sight to memory before leaning in and pressing a kiss to his hole, holding Keith open with his thumb.

It wasn’t often that Shiro let himself indulge in anything, so he figured that it wasn’t a sin if he spent extra time playing with Keith’s ass. He alternated between long, broad swipes of the tongue and kitten licks that had Keith moaning and writhing beneath him. He pressed his tongue into the hole just barely, earning a long, gasping moan. He closed his lips and sucked, and he could feel Keith’s fist make contact with the mattress.

Shiro pulled back with a satisfied grin, rolling Keith down onto his back and seeing him fully hard again.

“Why did you stop?” Keith panted. Shiro rubbed up and down his sides.

“I only have so much patience. Wait here just a second, baby boy.”

Shiro ran to the bathroom, throwing back a cap of mouthwash to swish as he ripped open the box of condoms and peeled the inner seal off of a tube of lubricant. He spit just before returning to bed, finding Keith sitting up with his back against the pillows, looking impatient and absolutely wrecked.

“Took you long enough,” Keith teased, reaching out to him. Shiro complied, dropping the lube and condom by Keith’s hip as he took his rightful place between Keith’s knees.

“Sorry,” he smiled, bringing his lips to Keith’s. Keith turned his head in hesitance at first, but Shiro blew a minty breath against his lips and he accepted.

Shiro slid his hand over Keith’s stomach. “Do you want this?” He asked, dropping his fingers to rub gently against his entrance.

Keith nodded. “Yeah. I’m ready, Takashi.”

Shiro grinned his excitement against Keith’s neck, bucking his hips against his thigh with a grunt. Though he’d spent all that time taking care of Keith, he didn’t forget about himself. He had patience, but that was quickly running low as Keith opened his legs further and hooked one around his back.

“Let me know if it doesn’t feel good, okay?”

Shiro took the lube and coated his fingers with it, giving Keith’s cock a few playful strokes before bringing one finger down to his entrance. He rubbed slowly, taking his time before pressing in to the first knuckle.

“Yeah?” he breathed, wanting to check in with Keith before going any further.

Keith nodded. “God, I jerk off, you know,” he insisted, wiggling his hips. “I can take two, easy.”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “Well, you’re getting more than that, so lie back and enjoy it.”

Having a bigger dick, though most of his partners were ready for it the second they saw it, came with unique challenges. Shiro had learned to never rush prep, even when he was between the legs of someone as hot and needy as Keith. He did add the second finger without too much of a wait, trusting that Keith knew his body. Keith grabbed the pillow and bit his lip as Shiro parted his fingers inside him experimentally, and realized that his index finger was very much running over his prostate.

“Feel good, baby?” he purred, stroking the hair out of Keith’s eyes.

Keith nodded in response, hips swaying and muscles clenching around Shiro’s fingers to encourage more stimulation.

“Fuck. Just fuck me already, I can take it,” Keith breathed out.

Shiro responded to that by thrusting his fingers in roughly, making Keith cry out and arch up off of the bed.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he reminded firmly. “It’ll be worth it.”

Keith fell back against the mattress and Shiro resumed the slow torture he was subjecting his boyfriend to, stretching him slowly and carefully with gentle presses and rubs to his prostate which never failed to garner enthusiastic responses from Keith. He only added a third once threats started to fly out of Keith’s mouth, and he was certain that he was beyond ready.

The third finger shut him up quickly, Shiro noticed. Keith’s breath came in slow, strained gasps. Shiro reached out and ran his thumb over the slit of Keith’s dick, offering a distraction from the stretch. Though Keith’s hands weren’t small, they were longer than they were wide, and Shiro knew that the sensation had to be different.

“Is it okay, Keith?”

Keith nodded quickly, eyes shut and lip raised. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s fine. Just… more than I’m used to.”

Shiro slowed his pace, putting more effort into keeping Keith hard and feeling good, bending down a little so he could roll his tongue over the leaking slit of Keith’s dick. He could feel him relax around his fingers and started to move, gently spreading his fingers and working them in and out of his hole at a steadily increasing pace.

The tension seemed to lift from Keith’s brow and noises of pleasure began to fill the room. Keith’s whimpers fueled Shiro’s arousal in ways he’d never felt before, and it was taking more and more self-control to keep from pounding him into the mattress. After a few more minutes of ensuring that Keith was ready, he pulled away and wiped his hand on the sheets that had a date with the washing machine anyway.

“Hand me that condom and that lube, baby?” he asked, reaching.

Keith responded by sitting up, tearing the condom package and pulling it out. “Is it okay if I put it on you?”

Shiro groaned. “Yeah. Of course.”

But before he did so, Keith crawled over so that his face was in-line with Shiro’s cock. Before Shiro could open his mouth, Keith’s tongue was teasing at the slit.

“Mmm,” Shiro moaned, holding Keith’s hair away from his eyes. “Look up at me, baby.”

Keith complied, and Shiro felt his groan deep in his stomach. Keith looked irresistible, looking up at him with cheeks flushed, sweat on his brow, Shiro’s dick on his tongue. His fingers began to reach and grab the condom out of Keith’s hand but moved to his hair instead.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.”

Keith had clearly never put a condom on anyone before, and Shiro had to take him by the wrist and urge him to flip it around so he was putting it on correctly. Keith’s embarrassment made Shiro smile, and he leaned in for a kiss.

“Ready?”

“Only for the last six years,” Keith grumbled, wiggling his hips as Shiro manhandled him into a better position.

Shiro took a second to look at Keith as he lubed himself up. His full lips were pouty from being kissed and bitten. His pale neck was peppered with tiny red and purple bruises that sent a wave of possessiveness up Shiro’s spine. The blush that had started on his cheeks spread wildly and burned splotches onto his chest. His cock was leaking and his hands were raised above his head in surrender.

Shiro licked his lips, hand subconsciously speeding up on his dick. Keith was spread out in front of him, and that gorgeous boy was all his.

“Come on, Takashi.”

He snapped out of his trance, and he let go of his cock before he got too carried away.

“Fuck me already,” Keith urged, hooking his legs comfortably around Shiro’s waist and digging his heel into Shiro’s back.

Shiro chuckled as he lined up. He took Keith’s leg from his hip and guided it to his shoulder. Shiro bit playfully at his calf, keeping eye contact with his partner the entire time.

“Okay, baby. I’ve got you,” Shiro reassured, holding his leg steady while the other hand guided his cock into Keith’s entrance slowly, deliberately.

Once Shiro was fully seated, his eyes fluttered closed, brain unable to process the fact that yes, he was deep inside of the ass he’d been lusting after for months. A whimper broke him out of his head, and he looked down at Keith to see if it was from pleasure or pain.

“Gah… Taka—aahh,” Keith moaned out, rocking his hips. “Move already. Fuck,”

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” Shiro chuckled, slowly withdrawing just an inch or two before sliding back inside.

Keith had been noisy before, but at that point, he was inconsolable. His moans and gasps were quickly joined by the sounds of Shiro’s pleasure, the occasional soft ‘ah’ or whispering of sweet nothings into Keith’s ear.

Shiro wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to hold on. Keith was beautiful in every sense of the word, clawing desperately at the sheets and staring up at him. They made eye contact and Shiro hissed as Keith arched into his thrusts, clearly too eager to simply lie down and yield to the pounding Shiro was giving. To Shiro’s sex-drunk brain, nothing was hotter than his partner who bit back, who was enjoying himself so much that he couldn’t stay still. Keith was hitting all of his goddamn buttons.

Wanting to even the scale, Shiro reached down and worked Keith’s cock with a free hand as he moved. Keith fell quiet the closer he got, breath held and cries turning to sexy little mewls if they did squeak out.

“I’ve got you,” Shiro breathed into his ear, nipping at his earlobe before burying his face open-mouthed into Keith’s neck.

Keith shouted as he came, and Shiro could feel a warmth on his stomach and nails at his back. The sensation, paired with the feeling of Keith clenching around him brought him straight to the edge. He finally let go with a grunt and a bite into Keith’s shoulder, hips stuttering and snapping before slowing to a halt.

As Shiro came down from his high, he took a moment to look at Keith looking absolutely wrecked and freshly-fucked under him with his hair knotted on the pillow, his neck spotted with bruises. His gray eyes were wide, pupils dilated and Shiro wasn’t sure if he was actually looking at him.

* * *

  
Keith blinked back to reality slowly, vaguely aware of teeth near his throat and the faltering rhythm of Shiro’s thrusts. What was wild to him was that despite the thin barrier, Keith could feel Shiro twitch inside of him and it was enough to send a wave of fire through his belly. Shiro held his position for a minute and Keith let him, hands roaming up Shiro’s muscular sides and down his arms.

Keith cupped Shiro’s cheek in his hand, which Shiro leaned into, holding him by the wrist and kissing his palm. The gesture was tender and intimate and made Keith ache for more. Shiro leaned down, pressing their lips together in a slow, affectionate kiss.

Shiro pulled out, holding the base of his dick and rising up to his knees. Keith watched with mild interest as Shiro pulled the condom and tied it off.

“Be right back,” Shiro promised. Keith wiggled so that he was half sitting against the pillows, slouching so that his sore ass was only holding some of his weight. He could hear the distinct sound of a metal trash can opening and running water.

“I think you’re part shark,” Shiro called from the bathroom. “Some of these bites broke the skin!”

Keith couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. “Quit complaining and get back over here!”

Shiro returned, and Keith stared on as he wiped his stomach and completely soft dick with a washcloth. Gently, Shiro offered Keith similar treatment, turning the cloth around and running it over Keith’s stomach and thighs. He tossed it into the laundry hamper and settled on top of Keith, his head on his stomach and strong arms circling his middle.

“Was it good?” Shiro asked. Keith rolled his eyes, running both hands through his hair.

“Hm. I came twice and screamed loud enough to wake up the neighbors. The ones that live three houses down,” Keith deadpanned. “It was fucking awesome.”

Shiro looked up at him with a far-away smile and Keith rubbed his thumb into Shiro’s temple.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

Shiro pressed a kiss to Keith’s stomach, and Keith was unable to suppress an undignified yelp, stomach clenching.

“Nothing. Just thinking.”

“What about?”

Shiro rolled onto his back, his undercut scratchy on Keith’s stomach. One of Shiro’s hands rested on his own stomach, while the other reached up so he could touch Keith’s side. Keith looked up, and those beautiful, dark eyes were staring up at him in soft adoration.

“I just can’t believe you’re here right now.”

Keith’s brow rose. He ran a hand through Shiro’s white forelock, holding it away from his face so he could see his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Shiro broke the eye contact, but Keith’s hand remained on his forehead.

“You mean a lot to me, Keith.”

Keith licked his drying lips, chest tight as his fingertips slid down Shiro’s shoulder.

“Shiro, you don’t have to—“

“I’m serious,” Shiro cut him off, eyes closing. “I didn’t think I’d ever have a partner as amazing as you are.”  
  
Keith didn’t know how to respond. So instead, he slipped his hand into Shiro’s. Keith thought that he had finished blushing for the night, but was proved wrong when Shiro kissed his palm and he felt his cheeks warm up.

They laid together in perfect, comfortable silence. Keith’s fingers never stopped dancing over Shiro’s skin, even as Shiro flipped back onto his stomach and closed his eyes. After a few moments, Keith felt wetness on his stomach and realized that Shiro’s breathing had slowed. He decided that waking Shiro from a much needed and well-deserved nap wasn’t worth dinner, Keith closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off.

* * *

  
The Instagram post was concise and simple and featured a candid picture of Keith bandaging a fresh tattoo of what appeared to be an origami lion on a muscular, somewhat scarred chest. He was grinning and wearing dog tags that did not belong to him.  
  
**blacklionink** _ **:**_ We are pleased to announce that Keith Kogane, our apprentice, is now available for appointments and walk-ins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! :') I hope everyone enjoyed this fic! It was so fun to write, and I'll definitely be playing with these boys more. I have at least two other Sheith fics planned, and have been known to sneak in bonus chapters to completed fics well down the line. >___>

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys for reading my first foray into the Voltron fandom!
> 
> I'd like to thank my beta reader, @softieghost. Check out her work! I'd also like to give a lil shoutout to all of my friends on Discord who have workshopped this with me. :')
> 
> I tend to crank out chapters very quickly, so make sure to subscribe so that you can keep up! :D
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ crazyhomoinspace.


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